


Patriliny

by Geishacomb



Series: Progeny [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Evil Space Gays, F/M, Happy Evil Space Family, Hux and Ren are still terrible people, Kidfic, Kylux Twins, M/M, Mpreg, Post Mpreg, and clueless parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 68,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geishacomb/pseuds/Geishacomb
Summary: After the traumatic birth of their sons, the Supreme Leader and the Grand Marshall retreat to their sanctuary on Naboo to raise them away from the prying eyes of the galaxy. But enemies new and old are drawing ever nearer.OR: local space despots have no clue how to cope with babies. Sequel to Progeny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Lord help me I'm BOMB already! The sequel kicks off with Ren POV, because I like to challenge myself...I'm very intimidated by Adam's masterful characterisation, so please leave a comment letting me know what y'all think :)

The man formerly known as Ben Solo sniffed the pewter-ash taste lacing the air. It would rain, tonight.

Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order and King of Naboo (or, soon to be) had another new title: Father. 

This hadn’t been part of his design, but that’s alright. Hux hadn’t been either. Or at least, not in this capacity. In truth, Ren had envisioned the man dead by now. He’d daydreamed of it enough. Splicing his scarlet sabre clean through the pale, regal column of the Marshall’s exquisite neck, and then installing his peeling skull someplace undignified. 

Like the refresher.

But now? Armitage was one of most treasured things he owned. One of three treasures he coveted most dearly.

Nobody had understood, before Hux. Even as Ben, he could take anything he wanted. Anything could be his. And why would the galaxy grant his bloodlines this power, if not to wield it…? The patterns of the galaxy were bound by his will. 

They had always told him no. Organa. Solo. Snoke, too. 

The Marshall knew what it was to want to take everything. They were insatiable: Hux’ hunger bolstered his own, fuelled it. 

Sometimes the Force had a design all of its own. The Supreme Leader had to admit, in this one respect, his former Mother had been right: never trust a vision. The future was constantly in motion, ever evolving. He could feel it, when he concentrated, feel the tendrils of consequence fanning from his fingers with every minute flick. 

It was faith in portents that had led Skywalker to try to kill him. That same fear had ensnared Nafi, too. 

Kylo Ren growled, lowly, his lips peeling back, and the soft bundle of flesh beneath his fingers squeaked indignantly. He blinked, his cheeks twitching “Sorry, baby.” He rumbled. 

Sulla was an utter riot. 

The Supreme Leader found his son’s antics endlessly amusing: not an emotive state he was used to. The boy was so like his Mother in temperament, it was astounding. Fussy, imperious, particular about EVERYTHING from his clothes to his bedding to the scent of his refresher gel. Always babbling speeches to his (sometimes attentive, sometimes very bored) brother.

Kylo adored him. Adored them both. They were a perfect extension of him. 

He hummed a low cadence that he knew Sulla liked, as he continued to wipe up the mess the infant had made of his linens. The Marshall, prissy as always, spurned any ‘lowly, disgusting’ duty involved in the twins care, such as…well. Shit. But Ren didn’t mind. There was a deep satisfaction in caring for his sons most basic of needs. 

Food, warmth, cleanliness. 

He wished their contentment could always be so easily bought. Their feedback strummed a deep chord that penetrated deeper than even the Living Force could, in him. 

“…can you hear the pounding feet, can you hear the bloody roar, the fire rising! March, march, march, for the Emmm~pire…” he sang, lowly, cursing Hux and his stupid propensity for playing old Imperial propaganda tunes to get the twins to sleep. 

Some were quite catchy. Quash our enemies, set fire to everything, those sorts of sentiments. Kylo approved. 

He strapped Sulla’s fresh linens up firmly with deft fingers, before turning to the second ‘Are you going to beat your turd-mountain record, my little sunbeam?’ he projected into Helios’ primitive mind.

The child giggled, considering his Father’s touch inside his mind to be a sort of tickle, and flapped excitable pudgy hands at the Supreme Leader. It made Ren loathe the memory of Han Solo even further, all of this. They were barely seven cycles old, and already, he couldn’t conceive being parted from them. The very idea was excruciating. 

But Solo, hells, Organa also, had packed Ben Solo off to some stinking backwater swamp without so much as-

Helios blew a bubble and sniffled, dark eyes shining at his Father’s souring mood. Kylo sighed, his nostrils flaring: he imagined an enormous blood-filled pustule being pricked, and burst, and felt his rage dissipate, slowly, dwindling to nothing. 

“Come. Let’s hunt your Mother down.” He murmured, pressing a fierce kiss to each of their bellies before gathering them up. 

The villa practically sang with memory. Forlorn, pained, rampant.

Some corners held distinct, bright flashes of voices or sounds or smells. And all around there existed the aural traces each lifeform left wherever it went. He had identified Vader’s immediately, although of course, he’d been Anakin Skywalker then. Here, as with everywhere, his Grandfather had known an agonising blend of pleasure and agony. 

It seemed that was the curse of their blood. To be an imbalance, and unbalanced. 

Grandfather had meditated here: trained there, fallen deeper in love, everywhere.

As a null, his Grandmother’s scent was less strong, but imprinted more deeply on the place. She had visited here often as a child, hidden behind vases with her sisters, fallen and broken her ankle sliding down the stair banisters. It hurt Ren to sense how the rambunctiousness of that child hardened to the sombre, troubled disposition of a monarch, then politician. 

But they had been happy, here. Kylo knew that could only breed good things, for HIS family.

The Marshall had already begun filling the place with furnishings, agonising for endless clics over whether to choose puce-velvet for the drapery, or ricin-blue silks. The Supreme Leader was utterly bemused by the man’s incessant attention to detail, but then, that was something he had little patience for. 

And they were trying to run a supremacy, here.

“Bloodwood doors, or cherrywood, do you think, Ren?” Hux had asked, one evening, and exhausted and irritable as he was, Kylo had snarled back “Does it karking matter?!”

The Marshall had flinched. Not with his face, but with his mind. Ren caught it. Hux had an immense ability to strangle his emotions from ever creeping across his features, but he had no protection from a Force-user’s eye. 

It was – difficult, now, that he cared for hurting Hux’ feelings. He resented the man for it. 

Every time he elicited a spike of fear or slashed open a wound in Armitage’ pride, it felt like – Ren had somehow torn a matching hole in his own chest, too. Perhaps it was because they were both walking wounded. Survivors, conquerors. Kylo was well acquainted with the cowering boy within Hux that was still waiting, waiting, waiting, for a heavy hand to fall sharply against him. 

The Supreme Leader had exhaled, slowly, and drawn the Marshall suffocatingly against his chest, mouthed hotly at his jaw “Do as you like. It’s all yours. This is all for you.” 

This had assuaged his fiancé, a little, although he sulked for the rest of the evening. 

With Hux, it was always about control. 

The man was incessant about it. It was partly WHY he obsessed over details so, although even Hux didn’t fully understand that. He thought he was merely proper, a gentleman: no. Deciding whether to use silver or gold thread for the boy’s nightdresses, that, to the Marshall, was just as immense an act of power as destroying an entire star system. 

Both were levels of control he’d barely known, before.

The man was like a bulb-fly, ever buzzing about the place, settling its hairy limbs on anything, everything, while a bored Rylothian mantis watched lazily, and waited to strike. 

Kylo had grown strangely fond of the charade. 

Sulla pushed his head insistently against the Supreme Leader’s neck and slipped his thumb into his mouth, his other hand playing relentlessly with Ren’s hair. The child had an utter fixation with it, always making grabs as soon as Kylo came near him. He liked the feel, the smell, the taste. 

It was fascinating to sift through the infant’s fertile mild for his thoughts and feelings, to see how the Big Black One and the Big Red One were crystallising, slowly, into ‘Mummy’ and ‘Daddy.’ 

The Marshall was out on the veranda this evening, as usual. 

It was a great novelty for Hux to be planetside, and he was revelling in each new sensation. Ren felt it secondhand, and marvelled in how new things he took for granted became. Being barefoot outside, how the suns warmed the worn paving stones. The chitter of rice-crickets and the sound and smell of water. 

Of course, the pathetic slip of a man was also allergic to absolutely EVERYTHING. He always awoke to a red nose and a cough, before he took his aller-stims. 

His Armitage was so painfully delicate, Kylo mused, smirking. This pleased him. 

The fact that he could snap the Marshall like a sugar stick had ALWAYS pleased him, even if now, he would never do so. 

It was late. It was dark. Hux had fallen asleep on one of the recliners they’d set up around the fire-pit brazier. Lazy bastard, Ren thought. The man moaned and moaned about being sick of sleep, then took a nap while the Supreme Leader wiped their son’s arses. Kylo smirked. He wasn’t truly angry. Somehow, Armitage’ arrogance had become endearing.

The Marshall always slept curled around his stomach, now.

He had always slept huddled in a ball, this Kylo knew. The child, Armitage had had nothing but a thin, scratchy sheet to sleep under in Winter, and so it was his habit to try to keep warm. Armitage the man hadn’t kicked this habit. It was even more entrenched since the pregnancy, and now, it was also easier on the scarring at the base of his spine.

The knight set his children down in their bassinet, and turned the full violence of his attention to his fiancé.

The Marshall looked deceptively soft-natured like this. He was not girlish, his bones were too sharp for that. But Ren liked his slenderness. Liked how he always looked pale and pink and tender, like an exposed wound. Liked the dual-tone of red and gold in his hair. Like fool’s gold, and like his lightsabre core. 

It matched the ring perfectly. Kylo’s gaze flitted to the metal band encircling the Marshall’s finger.

He liked marking things. Liked owning things, and with Armitage, he had done both. There was some poetry to the fact that, despite all the violence he had meted out upon him, the only scar Hux had was the one from surgery. A clean new beginning, livid and raw. 

The Supreme Leader trailed his fingertips across the naked jut of Hux’ bony, exposed ankles, before drawing his cloak from his shoulders and billowing it messily over the man’s prone form. 

He didn’t like anybody looking at Hux like this. Even if it was just the starlight. 

The Marshall stirred, tucking his nose deeper against the furs. The knight glanced across the fluttering surface of his thoughts: the man was dreaming about blowing bubbles for the twins, but then the bubbles became miniature Starkiller Bases. Sweet. He sometimes wondered at Armitage’ sanity. 

Sensing his Mother nearby, Helios began griping and fussing. 

The Supreme Leader lifted the squirming child and set him in the open furl of the Marshall’s arms. Hux’ nose twitched and he squirmed, slowly, awake. Instinctively curled the babe beneath his chin, lips curling “…time issit…?”

“Late.” Ren replied shortly, dragging his nails against the Marshall’s pale neck with gentle abandon. Helios snuggled and quieted, content now. 

Armitage was staring at him in that muted, sleepy way that always went straight to his cock “You promised to show me the conquest tonight.”

Ah. Yes. So he had. The Marshall had been very vexed (as he put it) when it turned out that Kylo had already completed the conquest of Naboo, and Hux was unable to bask in the triumph of it. Fortunately, the throne room in the central city had holo-feeds, and so, he had them retrieved and the best moments amalgamated. Hux was particularly looking forward to the executions, of course. 

He loved that.

Nobody in his life, bar Snoke (who hardly counted) had ever encouraged his machinations. He had distinct memories of how his Mother had always reacted whenever he squashed an insect or lit some ugly plant on fire in their apartment suite. Never impressed, always concerned. 

Fearful. For him, at first, and then later? OF him. 

Hux, on the other hand? 

Armitage was enthralled by his shows of power, now that he knew it was wielded for their joint benefit. They plotted invasions together: oversaw torture. Nothing was forbidden, anymore, and to have approval, sometimes even praise, not spoken but TRUE, was endlessly rewarding. They toyed with the sheer breadth of possibilities like they were shiny new playthings.

Could he persuade a brother to shoot his sister? Yes.

Could he break all the bones in a lifeform’s body without touching them? Yes!

How long could he get a Calamarian to hold their breath before their muscular instincts forced them to inhale? 4 clics and 29 tics, precisely. 

The Marshall always eagerly received these nuggets of knowledge, intrigued and impressed by the seemingly limitless bounty of Ren’s talents. He even had good ideas, sometimes, came up with fresh methodologies to trial. Well, he was a strategist. 

Perhaps it had been Snoke’s design all along, Kylo wondered, as he settled behind Hux’ bony back and the holo-viewer flickered to life. To ensure they were constantly at odds in order to prevent an alliance. Because, Armitage…was the first person Ren had ever met who didn’t want to change him. 

If anything, he wanted the knight to be…more, him. 

More Kylo Ren, more powerful, more ruthless, more intimate, more loving. It was contradiction, it was balance. It was perfection. 

Helios gurgled sleepily and the Marshall kissed his soft skull, turning the infant’s eyes away as the first images of the palace massacre sputtered to life. Kylo curled his fingers around Armitage’ sharp hip and squeezed, possessive and content. 

They were happy. Even if the galaxy suffered for it. 

And it did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In which Hux answers a few business calls, Ren is still a jealous toddler despite now owning two, and Helios is a masterful cockblock.

The Marshall had a new smile.

It was reserved only for the twins, and Ren couldn’t help but be jealous. It had such rare provenance that it seemed to carve entirely new lines in Hux’ cheeks. Planes hitherto untrod, feelings hitherto unfelt. It made the knight a little sick. He wanted to own the full spectrum of Armitage’ feelings. Liked to pluck at the strings of his emotions at will…

…love. Lust. Fear. Hate. 

He wouldn’t have minded it so much if Hux smiled at him like that, too. And he came close. Rarely. But not this particular smile. It was – radiant. The man’s grey-green eyes went an entirely new colour and he mutated into some strange, malformed man whom the Supreme Leader didn’t know.

He could share Armitage with their sons, of course. But Hux loved them more than him, and that was – a problem.

It hurt. The Marshall had not rejected him in much of late, but it still pained him. The girl, too, had initially made a delicate fiction of her feelings for him. And look how that had ended. But Armitage was different. He was not for the Light. This would be different. 

“They surrendered? That’s disappointing.” The Marshall sipped at his measure of bask-plum port, eyes lit with entertainment even as his expression conveyed boredom.

The knight smirked, gaze turning to the spin of the holo-recordings. Naboo still fashioned itself as a peaceful planet, so naturally, they’d dithered, and prevaricated, and been conquered largely by inaction than anything else. 

But not all of them. 

Kylo laced the strut of his arms closely around Hux’ slender waist and drew him into the concavity of his chest “Wait.” he mouthed wetly against the clean gossamer of the Marshall’s titian hair “Watch the men in the corner.”

Hux had stopped using that disgusting gel-pomade on his hair. Because Ren had ordered him to. The man hated how his fringe was creeping longer and longer into his eyeline: that his hair was soft and fine as spider-web without the dressing to hold it in place. But Kylo didn’t care how Armitage felt about the matter. It was trivial, so, he could impose his will without too much consequence. 

On the recording, the Prime Steward of the court of Naboo suddenly burst free from the Stormtrooper’s holding him, declaring in a tinny, bold whine “I will not stand for this! You have no RIGHT-“

“I have every right.” His miniature image replied, low, imperious and powerful, if he thought so himself “My Grandmother was Queen. Now I will be King.”

The Marshall nodded approvingly “Crude, yet effective.”

“We are a meritocracy-“

“Not anymore.” 

Woken by the muted theatre playing out above, Sulla kicked his legs imperiously at his Father, demanding to be held. The Supreme Leader ran a featherlight fingertip down the boy’s nose, before lifting him with his powers to join the tribe. The child frowned, wary. Ren sent his son a fissure of reassurance and the baby snorted, amused. 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.” Hux snapped, sharply, eliciting a spike of ire in the knight’s calm “It sets a bad example to Helios. He’ll be throwing things about before long.”

Ren rolled his eyes, a sour habit of Ben Solo’s he could never seem to shake himself free from “When he does, I will teach him not to. Unless it’s at his enemies.” 

The Marshall seemed disgruntled, but let the matter lie. They’d come to an uneasy truce when it came to autonomy over the twin’s lives. Where the Force was concerned Ren was, naturally, deity. In politics and education, Hux could do as he pleased. Within reason. He was already reading to them nightly, though they couldn’t yet understand him.

Helios was infatuated with his Mother, and hung on his every word. Sulla also listened, but more in an attempt to understand, than for romantic reasons. 

Ren liked to listen, too, but pretended to sleep for the sake of his pride, most of the time. 

When the inevitable carnage broke out in the recording, the Marshall again turned the babies’ curious gaze away with a silken Ewok toy that kept Helios utterly in awe, and Sulla very confused “Why shield them from it?”

Hux hummed deep in the back of his throat, and Kylo licked his lips as the vibration thrummed down the length of his body “I want their exposure to violence to be controlled. They should understand it. Respect it. I’ll not have them underestimate the galaxy and fall foul of it.”

Tactically sound, as ever. The knight was relieved that Armitage’ pregnancy and aftermath hadn’t changed his determination to do whatever was necessary to obtain their goal. That he hadn’t adopted any strange fantasies of raising the twins to be pacifists. Mother’s could be dangerously emotional, harmful creatures. 

But as with everything, so far, Hux had impressed him. He was brutal. He was merciless. He loved the boys with a savagery that matched Ren’s own. They fit. It worked. A true miracle. 

“I must train them in combat. And Helios, in his powers.” He murmured, curling his teeth around the tentative column of Hux’ neck as a pool of heat warmed the Marshall’s belly. The executions had begun, and it was, amusingly, causing Armitage to become aroused.

Not the deaths themselves, so much as Kylo’s role in them. Power was ever their aphrodisiac, power, and blood. 

“How soon, for that…?” the Marshall asked, a pinprick of concern billowing into a blanket of fright in his mind. 

“Mine were neglected for too long. As soon as he is capable of understanding.”

Organa and Solo had attempted to outright ignore the problem, at first. To laugh at his antics and shush him like a normal child when he howled at the strange apparitions that taunted him day and night. To tell him firmly NOT to break things and NOT to twist the primitive minds about him to his will, but never what he SHOULD do. He had felt full. So full he could explode. Dismissed and discarded like he was nothing. 

The communicator on the Marshall’s wrist beeped, irritatingly, and Hux passed both children over “Mm. Take them, a moment.”

Armitage slung his pale legs over the edge of the recliner and stood, abruptly. Kylo felt the cool of his absence washed over him, and his hackles rose, unbidden “General Li, report.”

The knight resisted the urge to drag Hux back into his embrace, uninvited, but turned his attention to the boys instead. 

“The conquest of Kashyyyk is proceeding to schedule, Grand Marshall!” a tiny, very, very frightened little officer was squawking through the comm device “The scorched earth policy is driving the guerrilla beasts from their holes. It will not be long, now.”

Ren smirked. He ducked the Ewok toy just out of Helios’ reach, and the baby pouted. The infant waved his pudgy fingers, and reached out with his intangible powers to try to retrieve it. Too weak, for now. And Kylo was not about to LET the boy win. He’d have to earn it. 

“Good. Keep me informed. Admiral Barclay. How goes construction work?” Hux was saying, leaning casually against the smooth barricade of the veranda edge, by the lake. 

“The core is 86% complete, Marshall, and will be finalised in seven cycles as per your calculations.”

Sulla began to fuss, furious and jealous of the attention his brother was receiving. Ren sensed that his null son had rather a – delicate, temperament. He was softer than Helios, in his way. He felt very keenly, and thought too much. Very much like Kylo himself was. He jiggled the toy within Sulla’s reach and the child grabbed it. 

Helios stared up at his Father, indignant and betrayed. Sulla gurgled smugly. 

“Belay that. I have updated designs for you – modifications. See to it that the engineers follow my instructions to the DETAIL. Or else.” The Marshall deactivated his communicator and ran pale, spiderlike fingers through his hair, exhaling. 

“You presume to run my Empire, Marshall.” The Supreme Leader commented, darkly, the hackles of his bottomless temper rising. 

Hux rounded on him and stalked back over “You neglect it. Besides, the Order is my army. Even if you are its figurehead.”

The knight’s palm lashed out, caught Armitage’ elbow in a tight grip and yanked him close, snarling “Careful.”

The Marshall’s eyes had turned that steely battleship-grey that precipitated a violent squall “Don’t you growl and snap at me, Ren! Remember who warms your bed and bore your children!” scarlet spots grew in his cheeks, and he squirmed fruitlessly in the knight’s steely grip like a rodent “You know I excel in this. Nobody doubts your prowess. So stop sulking and let me get on with it.”

Heat lanced in Kylo’s belly like a disease. These days, it was impossible to disentangle the potent mix of lust and love and hatred he felt for Armitage. 

So he’d taken to redirecting his violence into sex, instead.

He snatched the other man and rolled on top of him, pushing his biceps into the gentle give of the recliner cushions and covering Hux’ mouth greedily with his teeth. Armitage made a low noise of protest and yanked hard at his hair, but his knees shuddered and fell easily apart when the knight shoved a thick thigh between his legs. 

In his bassinet, Helios immediately burst into a confused, angry tantrum. 

The Marshall’s nostrils flared, and he went limp and pliable beneath Ren’s hands ”Off.” He ordered. 

Kylo chose to obey. 

Armitage swept Helios into his arms and kissed at his flying feet and fists “Don’t fret, poppet, Mummy’s here.”

The Supreme Leader chose wisely not to comment on Armitage’ surrender as to his new title. If he did, he knew Hux would never allow himself to be called ‘Mother’ ever again.

“He mistook it for an attack.” The knight burst out, unbidden. It hurt. He HATED it, hated how he could not make his son understand – this. This complex, strange interplay he and Hux had. 

The Marshall was patting Helios’ sniffling, bent back gently, and watching Ren with acute dissection. He was unpicking the threads of emotions spinning across Kylo’s face with disturbing accuracy. When had Hux learnt to read the Supreme Leader’s face as the knight read his mind…?

Armitage reached out with a loosely curled fist, and ran his knuckles slowly down the pale, knotted scar that bedecked the knight’s cheek “You’re his Father, Kylo.” He said, firmly “He’ll understand. Don’t look – like that. It’s pathetic.”

There was no sting to the words. The knight’s head felt suddenly filled with deadweight. He wanted to lay the aching cage of bone surrounding his brain down on Hux’ knee, feel the Marshall’s hands in his hair. He was laid low, by this. It was intolerable. 

A whisper of danger-

Somewhere far out on the water, a blinding flash of pure-white light ripped through the peace like a blaster bolt. 

The Supreme Leader shot instantly to his feet, legs stretched and palm outstretched. Where. WHERE. What?! He reached out. Sought the pound of a heart, the rush of blood in alien veins. WHO DARED?

He could feel the jitter of Armitage’ shaken nerves rankling against his own anger like a dust-moth against a flame “What in karking Hells was-“

“Take them.” Kylo heard himself order, coldly “Get inside. Now.”

Armitage obeyed him, instantly and without question. Ren waited for the slap of bare feet to retreat behind the ominous slam of a heavy, chrome doors, before whirling on the deceitful water.

Quiet. Beneath the startle of a flock of some kind of avian creatures to the South West, and the mournful sigh of wind creeping through the trees, the knight heard – felt – 

A mechanical whirr. Ca-chick, CLICK. On the far shore. 

He dove like a man possessed into the swallowing dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'll be updating every other day now, my loves, to give me a bit of breathing/beta space. Keep posted, and remember to comment if you liked it! :D It makes my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Decimation count: one high-tech TAB-L0 propaganda droid, two curious locals, a flock of startled birds and a fat pond-pig Kylo didn’t like the look of.

It was almost disappointing.

Nonetheless, the audacity of it enraged him. Not that they came, because of course they came – he, Hux and the boys were the galaxy’s hottest property, as Darjeeling Ti put it. What galled Ren was that they presumed they would GET close. It showed disrespect. It showed they were not afraid enough.

He would soon change that.

Kylo cut the head of a simpering nymphette statue clean off as he climbed the winding, smooth stone steps leading back up to the villa. 

Armitage had ensconced himself and the twins in their bedroom: ever the strategist, the Marshall had picked this room because it was the most easily defensible, in the centre of the property with a floor above and below. He was pacing. The knight could feel this even before he saw it. Helios was wailing, confused. 

“Well?!” Hux demanded, the instant Ren entered and began trailing damp reeds and pond scum across the floor. It was testament to the Marshall’s panic that he didn’t scold the Supreme Leader for this.

Nafi’s betrayal had scored a deep wound in Armitage’ mind. 

Kylo could see it: ever present, ripping raw and wide open each time someone, or something, surprised him. It wasn’t fear for himself, as Hux had treated his own life as dispensable from a very young age. But he couldn’t seem to control his terror for the boys. It was not REASONABLE fear, either. 

A medic would likely call it trauma. But the Marshall refused to see one.

“Nothing but a TAB-L0 droid. They’re still too cowardly to approach themselves.” The knight assured, shedding his cloak with a roll of his shoulders. 

Armitage was paler even than usual. Ren could feel his thoughts clanging around in a mass of chaos in the man’s brain, as if a blaster bolt had been fired and ricocheted, over and over, unable to escape. The Marshall couldn’t even summon the presence of mind to comfort his bawling son. 

Kylo was alarmed to see that Hux had a blaster in one hand and his vibroblade drawn in the other “I don’t like it.” He continued to pace, back and forth, and Helios screamed louder “I don’t LIKE it, Ren, I demand-“

The Supreme Leader seized his fiancé by the shoulders and trapped him firmly against his chest and neck “Hush.” 

Hux was trembling with a potent blend of rage and terror. Ren’s anger rose in a matching crescendo, but he swallowed it. Tightened his grip. The Marshall made a soft noise of pain, but didn’t seem to truly mind it “Calm, Armitage.”

Trapping Hux always did something strange to his mind. 

An odd wipeout. Not quite calm, or peace, but – a shutdown. His brain would fill with white noise and he’d cease, utterly, to think. Kylo found it was the easiest way to get him to calm down, without manipulating his thoughts with the Force (which the Marshall loathed). 

Armitage exhaled, shakily, and dropped his weapons.

The man forewent his infamous pride and curled himself into the shelter of the knight’s grip, pushing his face harshly against Ren’s neck. The feedback was – indescribable. It made the Supreme Leader shake, too, for different reasons. 

This was power. Fresh, new. Overwhelming. 

Armitage had almost never been held. Or touched at all, really, this Ren knew. It was all very raw to him: the spike of chemicals that lanced in his brain when Ren’s taste and smell and flesh pressed against his own. Kylo too, had been deprived as an adolescent due to Jedi nonsense. 

It made this simple act of standing and holding very – intense. 

Helios had calmed a little, hitching and gurgling plaintively. The Marshall sighed, pushed Ren off and went to him “I’m so sorry, my love…”

The Supreme Leader checked Sulla. The child was giving him a disdainful look as though he was demanding some kind of explanation from him for running off. Ren sifted through the infant’s thoughts, and found the child was also supremely annoyed with his parents for making his brother cry. 

He’d make a fine Emperor one day.

They piled into the expansive bed and Kylo drew the sheets and plush blankets up with a flick of his hand. Helios had exhausted himself with his crying and was now grumping, sleepily, rubbing his eyes. He was sucking Hux’ thumb with sour fervour and staring up at his Mother, as though ensuring he was well. 

Ren stroked the boy’s hair with coarse fingertips and his son made an affectionate, gurgling sound. He was glad Helios could be entrusted with Armitage’ care, but also a little wary of it. 

That was HIS job.

Sulla was wriggling, still annoyed. The knight pressed his lips to the child’s warm belly and blew, and the infant screeched, ecstatic. Hux winced and rubbed at his temples. The Supreme Leader summoned an inflam-stim and his fiancé plucked it from the air, murmuring a rare thanks. 

“We’ll speak with Darjeeling tomorrow to form a strategy. This can’t continue.” The Marshall said, hoarsely, pressing closer to the knight “They’re OURS, Ren. I don’t want to share them.”

“Nor I.” the knight replied. Sulla finished running a thorough diagnostic on his sleepy twin, ensuring he’d settled, before reaching for Kylo’s hair. 

It was time to broach a delicate subject. 

“If you’d allow the knight’s to return…I can maintain a broader perimeter.” He pondered. With Hux, he always had to convince the man that he had a choice in the matter. 

Even if that was pure fiction. The knights would come. They had to. 

The Marshall shuddered, tracing the soft shell of Sulla’s ear and neatening his hair. He wouldn’t look Ren in the eye. This annoyed him. 

“…how many?” Hux said, quietly, postulating a thousand calculations and scenarios as to which, why, when, perhaps Stormtroopers, no, that was WORSE, who could he trust? He could trust NOONE. 

“Two, perhaps. Besides. You need guards. They, need guards. You won’t suffice, were something to happen to me.”

It was a cruel thing to say. But true. The Supreme Leader had never coddled Hux, and never would. 

“…I know that.” Armitage said, bitterly, his pale shoulders caving around the clutch of his ribs. A sour tendril of self-hatred and pity unfurled and crawled in his gut: Ren loathed it. Loathed Brendol, and all of the others, for their damage. 

“Don’t.” he commanded, taking Hux’ chin and kissing him harshly “Remember: I treasure your talents. Marshall.”

The Marshall nodded, and settled. Watched the twins fall asleep. Ren knew the man wouldn’t sleep tonight unless he took a sed-stim. 

“Cyarr only. For now.” Armitage concluded, after a moment. 

“I need two.”

Hux’ nostrils flared “…Ankh, then.”

Interesting choice. The knight smirked, slowly, recalling the last time he had let his leery disciple near after he had just fucked Hux senseless “Not Ankh. The smells here will make him…excitable.”

“Oh, Ren, that’s disgusting.” The man’s nose wrinkled, and Ren resisted the urge to bite it “Then Ruming, I suppose. Will she behave?”

Kylo knew she would.

Cruel though it was to say so, Ruming was by far the simplest of his knights. She existed in an almost permanent state of rage or near-rage, and so was not one known to plot. She was also unendingly loyal to him: had been the most excited that her master was to have children. 

“Mostly. She is exceedingly loyal-“ Ren began. 

The Marshall cut him off, coldly, his eyes dulling to that accusatory grey “So was Nafi.”

The Supreme Leader felt as though Hux had just shot him through the stomach. He shuddered. Curled and uncurled his fists, before jumping to his feet, beating the same pacing circle that Armitage had utilised moments before “If I’d known-“

The Marshall affixed him with a look that could cut chrome “Yes, but you didn’t.” 

The knight whirled on him: no, no, NO. His head was filling with rage, it was black, it was red, it was WHITE. How DARE he, how DARE he presume to lecture Ren in this when he had done nothing but nurture, protect, provide for him. He should snap his pretty neck. Break his FINGERS. Cave his skull in against the sharp stone edge of the bedside-

Instead, the Supreme Leader left the room, marched to the dining area, and proceeded to smash every single item of furniture Armitage had put in there.

He returned to his family wrung dry and trembling. Spent. Cold. The disease of his feelings was not one he was grateful for. He knew it was wrong. He knew HE was wrong, had known it for as long as he could remember. 

He thought he could HAVE this. He must have this. If not…he couldn’t. Wouldn’t bear it. 

“Are you quite finished?”the Marshall snapped, yet his eyes widened in shock as he saw the knight’s shredded knuckles and haunted eyes.

He extended pale fingers to him “Stupid boy. Come.”

The knight curled himself on top of Hux’ thighs, as difficult a fit as that was to accomplish, and stared blankly at his sleeping children. Numbness was filling him. He couldn’t think. Armitage fussed and fixed the tears in his hands, picking splinters and lint from the bruised flesh, prissily. Ren didn’t flinch. 

“I don’t blame you, Kylo.” The Marshall said, awkwardly, his fingers snarling in the knight’s hair. It was as close to an apology as Hux’ ever came. 

The Supreme Leader felt the enormous sense of weight caging his body lift, gradually, as Armitage stroked his hair and dragged his nails across the crown of the knight’s skull. He recalled Organa doing this for Ben Solo, once upon an eternity ago. It hadn’t helped, then. But with Hux, it did.

Perhaps it was because the Marshall never forgave him for things. But always accepted them. 

“I have somebody coming, too.” Hux said, breaking the uneasy quiet. 

The knight nodded “Admiral Rae Sloane.”

He traced the bony planes of Armitage’ right wrist slowly. His skin had changed. The beat of the Nabooan sun had turned it scarlet, then a blend of pink and gold that looked like the inner lips of a cockle shell. Strange, pale brown dots had begun sprouting everywhere, also. And his hair was turning slowly paler. 

Kylo was unsure he liked that. He preferred Hux as he was: milky white, dark red hair, the product of endless cycles in space. He should look exactly as he had when Ren had met him: as Colonel. He had struck the knight even then. The depth of his darkness contrasting to the luridness of his hair was – intoxicating. 

He hadn’t given the man permission to change. Nor given consent to the suns to mark him so. Armitage was HIS. 

“You read my comms?!” the man was exclaiming. 

Kylo smirked “I don’t need to.”

“Ah, of course. How silly of me.” The Marshall sniffed, loudly, his mind summoning a vague impression of the woman: the scent of bitter caf and blue-mint sweets, starched, ivory uniforms, a strong, nut-brown hand squeezing his bony shoulder “She arrives within the next few cycles. Have you finished reprogramming those protocol droids?”

Ren rolled his eyes (AGAIN: he must medicate and focus further on the eradication of Ben Solo and his poisonous habits) “Yes, your majesty.”

Hux shuddered: Ren felt the Marshall’s cock stiffen against the knight’s ribs “That shouldn’t do what it does to me.” He squirmed, uncomfortably: the Supreme Leader refused to move “Speaking of which: when is the coronation?”

The Supreme Leader hadn’t given it much thought. He would leave the details to Darjeeling: but had a sinking suspicion that the man would suggest he don full Nabooan formal dress. Makeup included. He also suspected that Hux, in revenge for his uniform ‘dress’, would firmly endorse such an idea. 

“The twins should not attend: too vulnerable. And I won’t leave them until they’re older. So. Whenever I deem it.” He answered. Logically. Perhaps the Marshall’s thought patterns were beginning to affect his own. 

“We must consolidate. It should be soon. And I want to be there.” Hux was imagining a lavish ceremony: he was jealous of Ren’s new title, his regal heritage “…six tetra-cycles…?”

“As you like.” the Supreme Leader assented. 

He was going to make the Marshall his Queen. But Armitage didn’t need to know that, just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: KingofNaboo!Ren in his robes and dresses and makeup is immensely arousing and I won't hear otherwise!! Perhaps Hux will lift his skirts, this time :'D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I gotta warn y'all, this chapter gets vewwy fluffy. Like, fetch me the dental floss, fluffy. I'm a sucker for these violent arseholes being soft!

That night, Kylo Ren dreamt of Shmi Skywalker.

It wasn’t his nightmare. But a remembered one, that’d lingered in the stones of the villa and been spat back out at him like a disease being purged. 

She’d smelt like cloves and blister-beet oils. Her skin felt warm and creased like parchment, hounded by the pound of the sun and scream of sand scratching her cheeks. She’d had a beautiful singing voice. The Supreme Leader knew all of this because Anakin Skywalker had. 

In the dream, Shmi was burning. She was in pain, everything stung. Her ankles were bent in exhaustion and she was lashed to a rough wood structure. The room stank of infection and piss. She’d hoped she’d die, soon.

She’d thought of her son often. 

Kylo blinked, and his great Grandmother mutated into Armitage. 

It was Hux who was dying, Hux who was violated, Hux whose back was gouged open and oozing pus and blood. What made it seem so terribly REAL was the fading pink scar at the base of his back, where the twins had been drawn from him. His grey-green eyes were glazed over and his hair was stiff with sweat. 

And Ren couldn’t reach for him. He had no voice, no BODY-

He awoke with a choke and a shudder, well practised now in swallowing his screams upon waking. It took an inordinate amount of time and effort to get Sulla to sleep, and on the nights when Ren (or indeed, Hux) had a nightmare, nobody got their rest. 

Kylo was trembling uncontrollably. His cheeks were cold and wet. 

He pawed frantically across the cool expanse of sheets, searching for that warm, firm body. Nothing. No pale pink curl of flesh or sharp juts of bone. The knight was alone. He exhaled through his teeth with a low whistle, and clutched his pounding skull.

A soft blue light flickered in the archway adjacent to the refresher. The Supreme Leader reached out with intangible fingers: brushed against a frantic flutter of calculations and scenarios, humming beyond his sight. Armitage was awake, and working. On some kind of new weapon. Ren didn’t care for the details.

He rolled over, dragging his petrified limbs. Scrubbed at his face and checked on his sons, curled together in their bassinet. Both asleep. Helios’ minute fingers were twitching gently, a tiny frown between his brows. Sulla was still, snoring softly. 

The Supreme Leader stood, abruptly, and swept out onto the balcony.

He knew of course that this vision, at least, was a fiction. The chances of the Marshall going to Tattooine and being taken by Sand People was monumentally slim. Yet, it still felt like some kind of warning. From his Grandfather? Perhaps not directly. What struck him was the impotence of it. Anakin Skywalker had been the most powerful Force user the galaxy had ever seen.

And he couldn’t even protect his own family. Not his Mother. Not his wife.

He stood where his Grandfather had once stood, legs spread, hands laced behind his back: and thought. Was it because he had been too much for the Light…? Skywalker had always been hesitant to do what was absolutely necessary. Perhaps he’d turned to the Dark too late. But that was too simple, no. Balance, Snoke had said. And it was one of the few truths Ren felt the old kark had dispensed. 

He couldn’t protect Armitage, Helios and Sulla forever. That much was certain.

In that case, he must learn the forbidden arts Palpatine had enticed Anakin Skywalker with: how to prevent death. Obtain immortality. Only then, would they be safe. Only then could he find peace. 

Soft fingertips curled around his left wrist. The knight jerked, hand lancing towards his sabre-

“Don’t! It’s me.” Hux said, sharply: yes, Kylo could smell him now – that strange tang of citrus and cool blue-mint, and smoke “We really must cure this habit of yours.”

It was true he’d grabbed his fiancé by the neck more than once, when startled. The Marshall, somewhat used to this behaviour, didn’t hold it against him. Hells, it was an improvement upon ACTUALLY choking the man. But he didn’t appreciate it, either. 

It was only a recent problem, because Hux had never been able to sneak up on the knight before. Now that he was – tribe, that he was in Kylo’s orbit and presence so often, he had become part of the familial blend. He no longer registered as a threat: beneath notice, and always worthy of notice. 

It was a shame Armitage would never know what it looked like: the patchwork of life, of the four of them, together. In the Living Force, their combined auras glowed pink. 

The Marshall hesitated, then slid his slender arms slowly around Ren’s waist from behind, and pressed flush to his back. Hux liked his back, Kylo knew. Liked the ripcurl of muscle there, and the feeling that he was stalking the other man, rather than vice versa. They were both predators, lest they forget. Even if Armitage was a poor one. 

The Marshall had beautiful hands.

Not clumsy and awkward as Ren’s had always been. Thin but strong (he had a surprising grip that felt exquisite on the Supreme Leader’s cock) and utterly unmarked. Not so much as a nick, no scarring. Skin plush and tender with a lifetime of attentive grooming and an entire medicine unit of products. 

Hux pushed his teeth against the clammy back of the knight’s neck. He was trying, in their strange, abstract way, to give comfort “…should I leave?”

Kylo smirked, and echoed the past “No. Your presence is soothing.”

The Marshall tightened his grip harshly, and grumbled that the knight was a strange creep “Hells, you are pathetic.” 

Ren had a brief, extremely potent image of the villa in flames, of his children howling inside, and of his own palms, coated in black ash. His breath hitched when a high, answering wail sounded behind them. Hux sighed, and drew away “…I’ll be back.”

He returned moments later, carrying a sniffling, puce-faced Helios in his arms. Ren cocked an eyebrow and enquired “Sulla?”

“Slept clean through.” The Marshall shushed the infant but, rarely, Helios’ attention seemed fixed upon his Father.

The baby squirmed and reached with pink, pudgy arms, for Ren. There was a certain alarm in his enormous, dark eyes, and his feedback was – very odd. Hux blinked, surprised “…you want Daddy? Alright.”

The Supreme Leader took the child carefully, settling him curled against his sternum. Helios wiggled, still reaching, straining his arms upwards. Kylo lifted his son higher, and the boy began awkwardly patting his Father’s damp cheeks with his tiny hands. 

“…oh.” The knight exhaled, stunned. Helios was trying to comfort HIM “…did you hear me…?” he asked, confused. 

Helios had sniffed his distress on the air, and wanted to make his Father feel better. 

Hux looked between them, calculating, before coming to the same conclusion. Ren’s heart felt like it was caving in on itself, catching fire. It was excruciating. The simple rhyme of love, love, love being sent to him was overwhelming. He pressed his nose to his son’s, and swallowed. His throat hurt. 

“I worry, you know.” Armitage murmured, curling an arm through the loop of Ren’s and squeezing, hard. 

“Why?” Kylo frowned. 

The Marshall fussed with a loose curl sticking up at the crown of the infant’s skull “He’s terribly. Empathetic.” His lips pursed into a long, thin line “Soft.”

“You worry he’ll be for the Light?” the Marshall nodded, frowning: Kylo didn’t blame him. As a null, Hux had a rather blunt idea of how such things worked “The Force isn’t so simple. Emotion is the path to the Dark side: love especially. And he has an abundance of that.”

Armitage smiled his new smile, and pressed a firm kiss to the infant’s cheek. A muscle jumped in the knight’s cheek “Here, he can be soft. It’s safe to be.” Satisfied, Helios began to wiggle, wanting to return to his Mother “We’ll teach him who to trust, and who not.”

The Marshall took his son back, eyes fixed intently upon Ren’s “Nobody but us?”

“Precisely.”

Goosebumps rose like tiny mountains on Hux’ bare shoulders, as a cool breeze blew. Kylo stared as the man’s hair shifted and sighed like blood-wheat “Ren. Tell me.”

The knight shook his head “I can show-“

Hux tapped his forefinger against the Supreme Leader’s chin, a technique he also used when admonishing the twins “No. Use your words.”

The knight inhaled, slowly, shoulders caving “Vader – my Grandfather. Anakin Skywalker. He had a nightmare, here, once. A vision.” He licked his lips: looked anywhere but at Armitage’ eyes “…about his Mother. Her name was Shmi. She…if only I could make you understand. She was wonderful.”

The Marshall sidled closer, tone low “Did she die?”

“Yes. She was taken. By a Tattoine tribe.” The Supreme Leader flinched as the spikes of memory tore through his mind “Raped. Tortured. For cycles and cycles on end. He saw it. He FELT it.”

Hux was staring at him, eyes wide “Do you? Feel such things, that keenly, too?”

Kylo nodded, shortly, growling with hollow resignation “Yes.”

Hux snorted, and leaned up, biting Ren’s lower lip with a slow clutch and slide “It’s a wonder you aren’t mad.”

“I am mad.” Ren replied, easily. He caught the Marshall’s velveteen tongue as it slipped into his mouth, and set his fingers on Armitage’ hips. Squeezing. 

Helios squeaked. Hux sighed, and drew back “Well, yes, a little. But I don’t mind that.” 

The Marshall loosely laced their fingers together and tugged the knight away from the balcony “Put the boys in their revolver. I have something to show you.”

Ren could search the man’s mind for answers, of course, but chose not to. He sensed no threat, only a vague smugness in the lull of the Marshall’s presence. He summoned the revolving hover-pram the Marshall had purchased from a dark corner, and set about strapping the twins into it. 

Needless to say Sulla was not impressed. The knight stroked the child’s warm cheek and sent him a gentle nudge, back to sleep. 

He and Hux had never had to discuss the fact that the children would never be more than a few clics from them at any given moment. There’d been no need. 

The Marshall led him up a winding set of narrow stairs he’d never noticed before, down the corridor and round the corner from the master bedroom. Some kind of servant or droid stairs, he concluded, from the echoes of beeps and clicks and tumbling feet. It smelt stale here, like dust and trapped air. In the revolver, Helios sneezed. 

Hux pushed open a heavy, regal-wood door, and stepped inside.

It wasn’t a large room. Almost perfectly square and at the pinnacle of the villa, with three broad windows and a view on one side of the now neglected gardens, and the lake on the other. The Marshall flicked the panel by the door, and discovered the lights still worked. 

The Supreme Leader stared.

The walls that had no windows were partly painted. A base coat of dusky green growing to pale blue, and many plants and animals and flowers scattered about, daubed by hand. It was unfinished. 

He could FEEL her.

“I found it when Sulla and I couldn’t sleep, a few cycles ago.” The Marshall said, stepping into the centre of the room and eying the art “It’s her work, isn’t it? Padme Naberrie-Skywalker’s?”

“How do you know that?” Kylo burst out, aghast. 

“Because of this.” The Marshall walked over to a small door set in the corner, and tugged it open with some effort. Drew a long, pale cream lace garment from the depths “I think it was left behind in a bit of a hurry.”

Kylo had never realised how small his Grandmother had been. 

Held against his fiancé, the hem of the dress barely brushed his knees. It was exquisite and very complicated, as all of her clothes had been. But there was a sweet simplicity to the cut of this one. Lace, everywhere. And a veil looped carefully over the neckline. 

The knight stepped forward and traced his fingertips across the material. It had faded, the colour curdling from pale white to a mellow cream colour. 

He took the dress from Hux, carefully “It’s her wedding dress.”

Armitage shifted uncomfortably “Well, yes, I did presume. White is traditional on Naboo, I believe. And in many other humanoid cultures, too. Arkanis as well.” He was babbling: a strange habit the man had when nervous “It’s. Sad.” Ren glanced up at the strange, sombre tone to Hux’ voice “It feels like she meant to come back.”

The knight set the dress carefully aside, unfurling the veil curiously “You survived.” Naberrie had despaired: and that was one trait he knew Hux did NOT have in him “You were stronger than she was.”

Armitage was too stubborn and too hurt, and now, loved too much, to despair. It was a cruel irony that their suffering had prepared them so well, for life. For family. 

“Nothing could take me from my children.” The Marshall snapped, and Ren could FEEL his fervency. He meant it. The Supreme Leader set the cap of the veil on Armitage’ head, much to the man’s chagrin. 

“Except the will of the Force.” He murmured, tugging the lace down to Hux’ ears, amused. He looked ridiculous. 

“The will of the Force can suck my karking cock, Kylo.” The Marshall snapped, huffing at Ren’s ‘horseplay,’ as he deemed it. 

“…that’s hot.” The Supreme Leader murmured, lips curling, heat coiling in his belly. 

Armitage punched him, hard, in the stomach “Shut UP.”

Kylo exhaled, slowly, and lifted the front of the veil up over Armitage’ head, til it hung over his face. Translucent now, his fiance’s face was a patchwork of pink and green and grey. He took Hux’ shoulders, and kissed him slowly through the material.

“…Ren?” the Marshall enquired, confused, yanking the veil from his head and shoving it into the knight’s ready hands. 

Kylo felt an insane lance of sheer happiness penetrate his dull mind: he let out a snort of rare laughter “I can’t believe I nearly killed you.”

Hux smirked, bemused “Likewise.”

Armitage wanted to be held. The knight could feel it leeching from him like a siren. He took the man’s wrist and yanked Hux against his chest, sparing him. The Marshall pressed his palms against the bones in the knight’s collar, pushing his temple under Ren’s chin.

“This should be the nursery.” He murmured, content. 

“Yes.” Ren replied, and in his pram, Helios yawned as they kissed “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm so proud of this chapter because I had writers block ALL DAY BUT DID I SUBMIT, NO.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Star Wars: The Fluff Awakens. Quickly followed by Star Wars: the Angst Strikes Back 8D

The Supreme Leader could cook. For some reason, Armitage found this arousing. 

The knight found it a little disturbing: the man would loiter in the doorway and leer at him while he worked, sometimes with his hands, sometimes with his powers. He didn’t have many recipes in his repertoire, but they ‘sufficed’, as Hux concluded. Sallow-pears grew on the balcony, and Ren had found that poaching them in treacle and a few spices drove the Marshall wild. 

The knight spliced a bantha tartare into seventeen pieces with a flick of his wrist and scowled, darkly. 

This lunch would be the last served a la Ren. He’d almost finished modifying the droids and machinery they needed to have a fully serviced cantina. Cleaning droids and a protocol droid, also (carefully modified to not even slightly resemble a certain CP unit). 

Hux had been driving him insane. 

The pampered sithspit had become once again wedded to his datapad. The knight daydreamed of smashing it over the man’s hard skull. Other than that, he did nothing but sleep in their bed and eat Kylo’s food and play with the infant’s when it suited, leaving Ren to change and wash and feed them. 

Earlier that cycle, he’d accused the Marshall of not contributing enough to the household. This did not go down well. 

“I nearly died several times over bringing our bastards into the world, Ren, the least you can do is make breakfast and wipe arses and fix those feeble rust-buckets!” Hux had snarled, lips peeled back, before tossing a brandy flute at Ren’s head. 

Their first true domestic argument had resulted in three broken chairs, a smashed window, a flock of startled lint-sparrows, and a livid handprint embedded in Kylo’s left cheek. 

The Supreme Leader would like it stated for the record that HE did not break the chairs (this time). 

They’d fucked furiously on the pantry floor, after: the cruel curl of Ren’s thumbs jabbing deep into the Marshall’s arse, peeling him open like an overripe fruit. Armitage had nearly torn Kylo’s ears off first with fingers, then teeth, cursing him furiously even as the hot velvet of his insides clenched around the knight’s cock. 

Ren soon put a stop to that. Hux had panted like a whore and mewled like a Labian lamb, before the end. 

It had helped. 

They existed in a humdrum, sated peace, now, Hux sticky and burning and sat gingerly at the cantina island, nursing his Tarine tea. His datapad lay forgotten on the floor and he was watching the Supreme Leader with rapt attention. He’d also wordlessly fetched the twins and set them up in their feeding-cots, grouchy and tired. 

Compromise. Who knew?

Sulla was glaring between them with a calculating gaze: Kylo had the creeping suspicion that the baby Knew What They’d Done, and didn’t approve. Helios was sniffing the air curiously, bemused by the sudden spike in…saltiness, to his Mother’s scent. 

The Supreme Leader slammed down the hot pot of caf, sliced sweetbreads and poached pears on the table, and tried not to soften when Armitage briefly stroked his knuckles down the curve of the knight’s cheek with a sly smile of thanks.

He failed. 

“How long have we been here?” he asked, trying to coax Sulla into taking his bottle. The infant was stubbornly resisting him. Ren scowled. 

Armitage hummed and instantly replied “Four seasons and one cycle.”

…so long, already? The Supreme Leader’s perception of time was markedly warped, it was true. Some nights it felt as though he’d lived a thousand lifetimes, not a fraction of one. He envied Armitage, experiencing his time carefully noted clic by clic, cycle by cycle, rotation by rotation. 

The Marshall rested his chin on his upturned palm and frowned “I’m worried, Ren.” He was watching Helios suckle greedily in his lap, tiny nails clawing against the sides of the chrome bottle “Sulla’s already begun to try to sit up. And make talk-noises. And grab for things, properly.”

Kylo nodded, lips quirking as Sulla shrieked out a commanding “Ada NA!” when he persisted in trying to get him to take his bottle. 

“It’s because of his powers.” The knight replied, finally giving up and flicking his fingers. The pestle and mortar in the centre of the table rose, came to him: he began spooning the poached pear in, and grinding it into a paste. Sulla huffed, approving, and said “Da-da.”

Neither of them were sentimentalists: both pretended they weren’t smiling. 

“Explain.” The Marshall demanded, once their saccharine delusion had passed.

Kylo frowned, sifting carefully through the tangled mess of his son’s minds “Elio can bring things to him, if he wants them. And he can tell us what he wants without talking. So he has no motivation to sit up or crawl or learn to talk.”

Armitage had gone WHITE “No son of mine is going to grow into a lazy, fat, mute lout like his Father! Something must be done!”

“I am NOT fat, I’m broad and muscular.” Kylo countered, weakly, stabbing at his own breakfast as though it was an enemy he could vanquish. 

The Marshall was hiding behind his sarcasm. The Supreme Leader could sense the anxiety wafting from the man like a rancid stench. As newborns, the twins had seemed very similar. Now, not only their personalities, but their abilities, were beginning to affect how they grew. 

Hux was thinking of all the training methodologies he’s utilised in raising his armies. They were all cold, cruel, dispassionate. He dragged a pale hand through his hair “We will just have to be stricter with him.”

Ren swallowed a snort. That, he highly doubted Hux could accomplish.

Nonetheless, the Marshall set Helios carefully on the cantina island-top, supporting him in sitting up. The infant blinked at him, confused, and reached to be held.

“No, Elio.” Armitage said, firmly, before holding the bottle just out of reach “Would you like your bottle? Ask for your bottle.”

Sulla, munching on his hard-won sweet pear mush, frowned at the display. Once his brother began to cry, he said, quite clearly “Ama, bo-be.”

The child was frantically projecting at his Mother to give his brother his milk. He huffed, cheeks reddening, and tried again “Ama! Bo-bel! Ewi bobel!”

The Marshall smiled, a little strained, and stroked his null son’s hair “Yes, very good, Sully. I’d like to give Elio his bottle, but he needs to ask me first.”

Helios began to squirm and sniffle, distressed. He was watching his twin, who had blown his cheeks wide and was waving at him, babbling some form of strange language he’d concocted only for the two of them to speak. Helios blinked, and Kylo felt the spike of realisation penetrate the child’s primitive mind.

“Ammm….ama! Mama!” he babbled, clumsily, clutching for the soft give of his Mother’s silk sleeves “B…bobel?”

The Marshall swept his son into his arms and showered him with kisses and praise, ecstatic. The Supreme Leader snorted, amused. And so their method was born. 

Warm and fat with food, the twins napped quietly together after lunch. The Marshall and Ren took turns using the refresher and watching them, never quite letting their guard slip. There’d been no incident since the night of the TABL0 droid, but no chances were taken. 

The Supreme Leader resumed his toiling on the CULNAR-Y droid, using the master bedroom floor for a workbench despite Armitage’ complaints of machine oil staining the sheets. The Marshall took up residence on a nearby recliner, his bare feet pressed flush against the knight’s left thigh.  


He was designing diligently, suspended in a wash of numbers. 

Kylo became consumed in his work. He’d forgotten how much – better, he felt, when he had something to do with his hands. 

"Have you tried a non binary algorithm...? It'd give us more scope to programme behaviour." Hux commented, suddenly, jolting the knight from his reverie. 

"I'm a mechanic, not a coder." Ren snarled back, annoyed. 

The Marshall stared down at him smugly and held out a pale palm "Give me that core chip. I've raised an army. I can programme a droid core.” He stroked his fingers briefly through Ren’s hair, condescending “You just worry your pretty head about the cogs, darling."

The knight bit his retreating fingertips, and Hux laughed, coarsely. 

"Watch." Ren snapped, flicking the arms of the droid to life. He suspended them buoyed in midair, and felt the sting in his pride recede as Armitage watched the flail and flick of precise blades with repressed intrigue. 

"... impressive." Hux conceded, head cocked: Kylo tried not to preen, and failed, again "You should work on the battle mods, too."

The knight shrugged "You seek perfection. I seek power."

"Aren't they one and the same...?" the Marshall countered, smirking. The comm device on his bony wrist pinged, prissily, indicating a shrill new missive. The Supreme Leader turns to return to his work-

SHOCK. Danger-

Kylo whirled on his fiancé as Hux’ alarm cut through the calm like a blade through blubber “What’s the matter?”

Armitage’ face was bloodless. He blinked, slowly, eyes fixed upon his comm. He snatched his datapad up, fingers trembling, replying sharply “It’s a message.”

“Obviously.” The knight growled, standing abruptly and stalking over to sit beside the man he’d chosen to marry. 

Hux inhaled sharply, and met his gaze “It’s a message from General Organa.” 

The galaxy stopped.

Kylo clutched the core of every molecule that existed about him and held it, petrified, stony and still, for a breathless moment. He felt like death. He fought at the deluge of thoughts and sights and smells that swarmed, scenting blood in the water, towards the forefront of his mind. He choked, sweating all over-

“It’s not laced. I checked.” Armitage’ sharp nails against his scalp drew him to resurface, gasping wetly “Do you want to read it?”

“No.” the Supreme Leader barked, wildly, and went to stand.

Armitage caught his wrist and tugged him, gently, to sit. Somehow, it was the tenderness of the gesture that ordained that the knight would obey. 

The Marshall shuffled back on the recliner and spread his legs. The knight exhaled and dived greedily between them, pushing his skull hard under Armitage’ sharp chin and winding his arms around the man’s slender waist in a strangling grip. It always felt like solace, here. Hux pinched his ear. Ren remembered to breathe. 

The Marshall waited for Kylo to stop trembling: then lifted the datapad and cleared his throat:

“To Grand Marshall Armitage Hux. Greetings. I address you by your title because I imagine not to do so would result in a cease and desist of reading this missive.” 

Armitage hesitated, glancing down. Ren could feel his gaze. Strange. Though he knew the sharp, clipped tones of Hux’ familiar voice, somehow, he could also HEAR his former Mother in the cadence of words.

He said nothing. And so the Marshall continued.

“Perhaps you’re curious as to why I’ve reached out to you, and not the man who was formerly my son. The answer is simple: he wouldn’t read it. You, curious as I know you are, certainly would.”

Nosy. Nosy was what she meant. She wasn’t wrong, the knight thought, numbly. She always did that, that double talk. Said one thing and meant another. 

“I find myself in an impossible situation, but then, I have been in one for as long as I can remember. When word of your condition reached me, I surprised myself that I felt pity for you. I too remember how frightening it was to bear a child. And not just an ordinary child, but one for whom the curse of their blood, I knew, would only ever bring danger and misery.”

Armitage’ heart slammed hard and fast beneath Ren’s ear. With rage and fear in equal measure. Kylo could relate. 

“Does this surprise you, as a man insatiable for power? I can only wonder if you experienced the same terrors as I did. The same isolation, the same myriad of unanswered questions.” The Marshall’s breath hitched, almost imperceptibly “Would they be healthy? Would they be strong? Would they be confused? How could I, ignorant as a savage and untrained as I was, tell them that I had little answers for them as to their place in the galaxy?”

Hux’ fingers had begun to shake, violently.

The Supreme Leader crawled up the other man’s body and rolled them, roughly, dragging Armitage between his legs instead. 

Hux exhaled, relaxing. But barely. It had become like an exorcism, now. He had to finish it. 

“I was very young and arrogant, then. I assuaged myself that the simple fact I was their Mother would be enough to stave off the cruelty and complexity of the world they’d be been born into. Evidently, I was wrong.”

Armitage licked his lips, slowly. Ren couldn’t look away. 

“I loved Ben with all of my heart and soul. I thought I made good decisions for him, and for his future. I thought I could prepare him, and protect him, but I couldn’t. And I lost him. And so, I am not contacting you to dispense advice.”

The Marshall was furious. He was BEREFT. These emotions raged in a tide, clawing at the fortifications of the knight’s mind. He himself felt – strangely – empty. 

“No child is born a monster. Not Ben, not you, and not the two children you’ve borne, safely, I believe, into the world. I can sense that, contrary to your natures, you and Kylo Ren love your sons.”

Armitage very nearly threw the datapad into the wall. Ren’s fingers leapt out of their own accord, stopping him. He had to – he just. He had to. Hux inhaled, breath rattling. And resumed. 

“We live upon opposite sides of a war. We both know that there is no chance of reconciliation between us.”

That hurt. Kylo hated that it hurt. But it did. Oh, Hells, it HURT. 

“In my more selfish moments, I wish that Kylo Ren had killed me when he had the chance.” Armitage shot him a curious glance, at that: Ren said nothing “To have lost a husband, brother, son, and now, two grandsons is too painful to describe. Nonetheless, I will continue for as long as I live to fight to better the world they’ll grow into.”

“I would say it hurts my pride to ask this of you: but I am long past caring for pride, now. If you would send me word of them, or allow me to see them in a neutral context, I would be grateful.”

Something rare was swirling in the recesses of Hux’ aura. It took a long moment for Kylo to identify it, as pity. 

“I am sending with this missive a small gift. It is the swaddling blanket I was wrapped in when I was born. Our Mother had it made. As a baby, Ben slept in it, too. I had some strange fantasy that it would protect him.”

Kylo Ren felt like a supernova. He was collapsing in upon himself. He clutched for Armitage’ fingers: found them. Gripped so hard they nearly broke. 

“Should you choose to discard it I understand. But if it is not their heritage to claim, then it is nobody’s.” Hux dropped, rather than let the datapad go, and reached for him “Sincerely, Leia Organa.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: in which many conversations are had, not had, and nothing gets resolved. Sulla is a typical Millenial. And Helios naps, as usual.

He didn’t know long they lay together in silence.

The fat belly of Naboo’s second sun slipped lower and lower towards the horizon. A high wind caught the thick, painted glass panes in the windows and shook them. The planet was growing colder as the cycles passed. In the corner, Sulla awoke from his nap, and gurgled an imperious summons. When he was ignored, he turned to bother his brother, instead. 

They began to play quietly, observing the hush as though attending some religious ceremony. 

“She can’t see them.” The Marshall burst out, eventually, quiet yet fervent “Not unless it is with total surrender of not just her, but the Resistance scum, too. And even then…”

The Supreme Leader said nothing. The spectres of Ben Solo’s past had risen, again, and he was paralysed: caught in some strange, childlike delusion that if he kept quiet, kept still, they couldn’t bother him. They did.

He snarled his trembling fingertips in Hux’ hair and squeezed his palms into fists. Released them when Armitage winced, slightly. The bloodline hues of red in Armitage’ hair was sometimes the only thing that seemed to make any sense. He was glad for his children’s hair, too. It was a comfort. A reminder. Red, blood red, crimson sabres. 

Belonging. Home. 

Armitage continued to mutter, more to himself than to his fiancé. He was tracing furious lines across the planes of the knight’s chest, digging his nails in just hard enough to leave a trace “She has mad machinations, Ren! They ALL do!”

Kylo inhaled as though surfacing from freezing water, and squeezed the Marshall so close he could hear their bones creak “…you sound as if you’re trying to convince yourself. Not me.”

His mouth was dry, his tongue fat and sweltering. His words were dull and empty. 

Armitage’ head snapped up. He searched Ren’s eyes. The knight reached into the thrashing surface of Hux’ thoughts, and found that the man was searching for remnants of Ben Solo in his fiance’s opaque eyes. He found none. This, more than anything, reassured the knight that all was well. 

Unchanged. 

Armitage, too, was struggling to speak. Quietened, Ren stroked two long fingertips underneath the other man’s chin, at the soft give of flesh between jawline and the column of his neck. It was impossibly soft and smooth, like plush glass, or the skin of a baby fruit. The knight had never seen Hux shave, surmised that the man had never needed to. 

Perhaps it was the High Arkanesian blood. 

“…I.” Armitage licked his lips, eyes ducking away “I just. Can’t stop thinking about – Laurentia.”

Ren blinked in surprise, deflating. 

Laurentia: Armitage’ birth mother. He’d only ever met her once, that time in the pantry at his Father’s estate. When they’d eaten puceberry tarts together. In the now, the Marshall could feel the sticky give of jam between his tongue and his cheek. Could smell the faint scent of soap and wildflowers – the natural perfume of the dead woman’s skin. Could see the translucency of her pale blue eyes. They’d never exchanged a single word: not one. Misery and regret was cascading from his fiancé’s mind like toxins. 

Hux expected him to be angry. His entire body was tense with expectation.

Kylo dragged the other man’s chin up and pressed his lips carefully against Armitage’ forehead. The man relaxed, exhaling. Silently understanding. Ren know he should be angry. Perhaps once, he would’ve been. But he knew the Marshall didn’t intend these traitorous thoughts as a betrayal of his Supreme Leader. Kylo was a magnanimous man. 

Armitage was allowed to be sad. He just wasn’t to allow those memories to own him more than Ren did. And, besides. It was time for them both to not fear the dead. 

“I never had the chance to ask her if she’d wanted to keep me, if she could.” The Marshall said, having banished the hesitation from his tone “I hope you’re happy. These brats are ruining us. You smile at them and all I can see is Ben Solo-“

Ren squeezed Hux’ bicep slowly, cutting the man’s mounting panic clean in two. Then he said, with firm command “But I am Ben Solo. Or was.”

Armitage stared at him, utterly taken aback. It was warranted. That name had long been forbidden upon any tongue, let alone his own. Speaking it aloud, even now, drew a shudder from Ren. 

“That’s a mighty change in tune.” Hux said, flatly, suspicious. It was laughable, really. They were both afraid that the children would soften the other. Make them – like Organa. Like the rest.

Foolishness. 

“Listen.” Kylo said, and digested Armitage’ rapt attention with a spike of pride “The key to my powers is…somehow. To find balance. And nothing, before this, before the boys. Has achieved that.” 

It wasn’t total balance. No. But surely that was next to impossible to achieve? In the concave sanctuary of the villa, Kylo had experienced – more extended bouts of peace and contentment than he ever had before. He was still torn. Pulled constantly, in two opposing directions: to Light. To Dark. But here?

With Armitage, with Sulla, with Helios, they converged into the same destination. His rage at the idea of losing them. The depth of his feeling for them…

It sharpened his focus and purpose, instead of dulling them. 

The Marshall was watching him intently: quiet for once. Ren tugged the man closer between his legs, curling more tightly about him “It changes nothing of our methods or ambitions, to love. Love is the most potent path to the Dark Side that exists.”

Hux’ nose wrinkled at the word, but he allowed it to pass. 

“Perhaps we could use it.” He proffered, carefully, his mind turning as it always did, to the question of how to twist this to his advantage “Her connection to them.”

Now that was an idea that Ren hadn’t considered. How deliciously twisted his Marshall was. He pressed another furious kiss to the man’s temple, their universal tic of approval. He swallowed a smirk as Hux glowed with pride at this small congratulations. 

“I still want her dead.” The knight said, and was pleased that there wasn’t so much as a shred of doubt about it. 

Wanting to do something and actually doing it were two different things. Ironically, it was Organa who had first taught him that lesson. Ben had been too small for his feet to touch the smooth marble of the Republic oratory floor, then. He’d sat bored and squirming as dignitaries bowed and scraped and droned on and on about nothing whatsoever.

Hells knew Hux’ speeches were just as asinine, but Gods, at least Ren had something pretty to look at during. 

“Well, naturally I do too.” Armitage said blithely, lacing and unlacing their fingers in what was becoming a nervous habit “But she is also the only living being who has borne and raised a humanoid Force sensitive. Poorly, might I add. But.”

Hux shuddered. His entire body shook as if weathering an unseen storm “I fear for Helios.”

If there was one thing Kylo appreciated about the Marshall, it was that even if his motivations were often passionate, his reasoning was utterly void of it. He hated Organa. Wanted her dead. Felt pity for her. Loved his son. But the reason he was considering her preservation had everything to do with ensuring Helios’ survival: nothing further. 

Kylo had enough burdens. Let Armitage bear this one. 

“I will not have any hand in this.” He said, as though dispensing an official decree “You may do what you will.”

Hux nodded, thinking nothing of Ren’s melodrama: he was used to it “I’ll think on it.”

The Marshall proceeds to do just that, immediately. Sometimes the man reminded Kylo of a droid: his mind was a purely unique thing. Linear and erratic, capable of following a trillion directions and a single sole narrative of thought, all at once. Drawing conclusions, redacting them, recalculating. The knight envied the sheer amount of control Armitage could enforce upon himself. 

He stopped short of admiration. 

“Burn the blanket.” The knight spat, vehemently. 

Hux scrubbed at the corner of his eyes like a child, and yawned, shaking his head “I’ll put it out of sight. You may change your mind.”

Kylo looked away and feigned disinterest “Fine.”

Close by, there was a curious sound, a gurgle, and the soft clinical tap-whack of the datapad being used. The knight and the Marshall’s eyes met, and both went bloodless with horror. They sat up with an abrupt jerk and leaned over the side of the recliner-

It seemed Sulla, grown bored of his corner, had decided now would be a paramount opportunity to discover how to crawl. And that the shiny, flashy metal thing that Mummy always carried about was very very interesting. And, for once, within reach, discarded on the floor. And now his. 

“…Sulla!” Armitage exclaimed, snatching the infant into his arms, eliciting an angry squawk of protest “NO! Baby, give me that. Right now. Karking Hells…”

Click! Ping. 

Hux blinked. Ren blinked. Sulla pouted. The knight said, flatly “…he didn’t.”

The Marshall ran his free palm over his burning face “He absolutely did.”

They peered at the pad together. The dialogue with Organa was still open. It seemed Sulla had found the round, holo-rec button fascinating, and had decided to poke it “Did it send?”

Armitage flipped the pad and fumbled with a few controls, playing the holo-recording back. It wasn’t long. But it was enough. It began with a crystal-clear image of the Nabooan slingtail rabbit stitched onto the front of Sulla’s infant-suit, followed by a long line of drool, followed by a pair of nostrils, wide eyes and slapping hands. 

In the background, the knight and the Marshall could be heard discussing the blanket. 

“…yes.” Hux gritted out through set, perfectly aligned teeth, shooting his son a flat glare even as he jiggled him carefully against is chest. The infant blinked, wide eyed, feigning innocence. 

“…impressive.” Kylo muttered, stroking his son’s warm cheek with vague fascination. 

Hux covered the infant’s eyes and abruptly smacked the Supreme Leader sharply upside the skull “Do NOT reward him for this!” 

Sulla gurgled and flapped, pushing his Mother’s fingers away, and said with authority “Ama, pa!” he reached for the datapad, squirming “Mama, pa, pwee!”

Alas, asking nicely was going to get the child nowhere this time. Hux held the pad firmly out of reach and admonished “No, Sully! This is not a toy! This is Mummy’s special tool! Not for you!”

Thwarted, Sulla instantly began to grizzle and whine and reach for his Father instead (he usually had more luck getting what he wanted there). Ren felt oddly proud of this. 

The Marshall handed the child over and fixed Kylo with a beady eye “Ren, if I catch you letting him play with this, I’ll divorce you.”

“We’re not married!” the Supreme Leader objected, stung. 

Armitage folded his arms and fixed him with a look of resignation and contempt “Could’ve fooled me, the amount of sex we’ve been having.”

Sulla blinked, and huffed “Sec!” he blew a bubble and puffed his chest out, proudly, as he always did when he’d mastered a new sound “Sec, Ama!”

The Supreme Leader chucked his son under the chin and swallowed a roll of derisive laughter, as his fiancé released a muttered cascade of further expletives that their son, luckily, didn’t catch. In the corner, Helios had begun to wiggle and wake at all the fuss, and called for his Mother. The knight felt a low stab of heat in his gut when Armitage wordlessly obeyed. 

The datapad made a soft notification ‘ping.’ Kylo looked at it before he could stop himself:

‘Better keep a close eye on that one. He’s trouble.’

He hurled the device at the far wall and it buckled, screen denting with an ominous CRRRUCK-SHH. Sulla wailed, distressed. Hux wouldn’t speak to him for the next four tetra-clics, and it took just as long to get his bawling child to calm down. Sulla enjoyed it when things broke, but only when he was the one breaking them. 

Later, in bed, once the Marshall had weakened and Ren had coaxed a few heavy kisses rife with tongue and teeth from him, quiet descended. 

The knight feigned sleep and eavesdropped on his fiancé’s thoughts. Armitage had been riling himself up for some kind of action, or inaction. The path was unclear. His thoughts were wrapped in deception. Not serious, for he never really bothered to hide much from the Supreme Leader anymore. But he was wary, nervous about something.

Hux exhaled, and picked up the barely functioning pad. Ah, Kylo thought. So that’s it. 

‘If you answer some questions, I will send you another holo.’ The Marshall tapped out, sharply, and slammed his thumb against the ‘send’ icon before he could overthink it. 

True: Ren hadn’t forbidden this. But he didn’t entirely approve, either. 

The Marshall jerked as if shot, when the reply came: ‘Fair enough. Ask.’

Hux exhaled, breath stuttering. His heart was pounding like a siren, to Ren’s ears. The knight’s fingers twitched against the soft curl of his sons’ hair. They had refused to sleep until nestled together between them. Spoilt brats. 

‘Did Ben ever hurt himself or others with his powers as a baby?’

The Supreme Leader’s blood ran cold. He searched Armitage’ superficial memories: but no, he hadn’t witnessed anything and neglected to tell his would-be husband. He had only hypothesised. Predicted. Considered – terrible things.

Helios floating something heavy over himself, losing his grip, dropping it, his skull splitting open like rotten fruit.

Helios squealing at Sulla to give him back his favourite Ewok toy, and Sulla flying backwards into something hard and sharp. 

Helios glaring up at him with Ren’s own dark eyes and clenching his tiny fists. And Armitage choking. 

The knight swallowed. He wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. He did nothing. 

The reply arrived, after an insufferably long pause: ‘Yes. He floated himself out of his cot and then landed on his head. Put a roof on top of it when the baby is sleeping.’

The words were clean: dispassionate. Kylo wished he couldn’t hear the echoes of distress and horror laced between them. He had a mad fantasy that he remembered that – incident. Remembered screaming for his Mother, afraid and confused. Unsure how and why and what he’d done, and why it had gone so wrong. 

That was the first day he’d known his powers HURT. 

Beside him, Armitage inhaled, shaking gently. He raised the pad and snapped a static-holo shot of the boys, curled together, sleeping. Sent it before he regretted it, with a brief missive: ‘Their names are Helios and Sulla.’

He didn’t expect a reply. So when it came, far deeper into the treacherous dark of night and with Armitage long since surrendered to sleep, it hurt far more keenly. 

‘They’re beautiful. Congratulations.’

Kylo Ren lay perfectly still. Held his family close, and read and re-read the words. Over and over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some mightily observant readers pointed out that my dumb arse forgot to add a scene clarifying whether Hux and Ren are using PROTECTION. Ahem. More on that later!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In which Kylo is an unwilling house-husband and the twins learn to swim!

Armitage couldn’t sleep. And so neither did Ren.

It was becoming a problem. It was incredibly unfortunate that the Marshall was a null (and possibly one of the MOST null lifeforms the knight had ever encountered, at that). Had he been sensitive, they may have been able to form a Force bond. 

As it was: Kylo had to monitor him. Constantly. 

Had to was an exaggeration, of course. But he was finding it harder and harder to IGNORE Hux. His moods, his thoughts. They clattered and pounded against the fortifications of the Supreme Leader’s mind like miniature missiles. He wanted – no, NEEDED to know, where the man was. What he was doing, thinking, how he was feeling. All the time.

It was becoming intolerable. 

The ominous thing was that this wasn’t even due to mistrust. He just – he had to. He had to KNOW. If he didn’t? He was certain something terrible would happen. 

Sulla was much easier than his Mother. Although crawling now, the child had been raised since birth highly attuned to the intrusion of sensitives in his mind. He’d even forged his own form of Force-bond with Helios: had been bossing his twin with directives since before they were born. And, no matter his lack of abilities? He was Kylo’s SON.

Blood had its own connection. That was partly why, with Solo-

The Supreme Leader’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the soft slam of the balcony door. Hux had left his usual echo of pastel-knits rustling and crumpled silks whispering, and the whiff of his salt-mint perfume. Ren frowned. He hadn’t felt Armitage leave. 

And he never usually closed the door behind him. 

The knight promptly deposited his children gently into their (new, EXTREMELY secure and inescapable from the inside) cot. Helios wriggled and yawned and threw his pudgy arms happily around his brother’s neck, drooling into his hair. Sulla wrinkled his nose but didn’t wake.

Kylo started outside in hot pursuit of his wayward fiancé. 

The Marshall hadn’t gone far: he was stood at the barricade, gown pulled tight around his shoulders against the oncoming chill of the colder seasons. The livid dapple-brown spots that had flushed all over his skin like a rash had begun to fade as the days grew shorter. Ren was grateful. Apart from the longer hair, Armitage was beginning to resemble the General, again. 

Hux flicked open a small, archaic metal device, and a tiny blue flame sprang to life. He lifted a long, thin tube of stiff, gold paper to his lips, and lit the end. A musty plume of ash and spice filled the air in a winding plume. It seemed to chase itself in lazy circles as it dwindled upward. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” The Supreme Leader said, disapproving, leaning his curled fists against the coarse banister and staring stubbornly out at the view. 

Armitage made that soft, low sound in his throat that went straight to Kylo’s cock “Filthy habit.” He murmured, rolling the thin stick of dried herbs between the white shock of his teeth “Hangover from my academy days.”

The knight caught a sudden, lurid flash of ebony-starched uniforms being tugged viciously from shoulders, of teeth digging into narrow collarbones. Boots squeaking as they slid against the floor, and the creak of old mattresses. 

He wished he could cut every memory of Armitage’ whoring from him. 

“Then again, I seem to have a weakness for them.” The Marshall was saying, regarding his fiancé with eyes the colour of budding green leaves on charred branches. His lips were curling softly, his face utterly unguarded. 

It cut clean through the crimson hue of temper like a knife. Sweeping it aside. 

“Cigarros?” Ren asked, thickly, clearing his throat. 

“Filthy habits.” The Marshall clarified. He shivered and pushed his pounding head against Kylo’s shoulder. Relished in the solidity. 

“I’m not filthy.” The knight muttered, grouching, even as he slid obedient arms around the Marshall’s waist and held him. 

“Most cycles, you are.” Armitage murmured, amused, his bones aching and the old sores around his ankles playing up. He exhaled and stated “…you know.”

About the man’s communications with Organa, Hux meant. Ren nodded “I do.”

“Are you angry?”the Marshall enquired. He didn’t fear the Supreme Leader anymore, or at least, not enough for it to register in his aura. The parapets and towers of their old lives, their former dynamics, were crumbling away. It should be alarming: but it wasn’t.

“Yes.” The knight said, simply, frowning. Hux rolled his shoulders and traced the brocade on his fiancé’s sleeping shirt. 

“…I’m afraid.” The Marshall admitted, very, very quietly. It set his pride aflame and swallowed it whole in a damp gulp. For him, it was a wretched admission to make. 

The Supreme Leader thought of how Snoke had crept into Ben Solo’s mind and turned the sour seeds of discontent in his family to irreparable cracks, and admitted “Me too.”

Armitage relaxed a fraction at this. Sighed and snatched the broken datapad from his pocket, typing furiously ‘Did Ben ever cry and scream at thin air?’

Now this, Kylo knew Helios DID do. He often growled at nothingness or cocked his head, thinking deeply, conversing with nothing at all. And even Ren could see nothing there. It confused and frustrated Sulla, also. Helios’ twin had taken to smacking his brother whenever he wouldn’t reply to him, which was causing its own problems. 

The reply came. The Supreme Leader found the concept of General Organa, up late, waking, in a meeting, who KNEW, turning to her datapad, unfathomable. 

‘Yes. He couldn’t understand what he could see with his powers. The younger we are the more we can see. When he could talk he’d describe ‘ghosts’ and ‘monsters.’

Armitage looked like he was going to vomit. Ren soothed a broad palm up and down the plump ridges of his spine, taking comfort from the Marshall’s feedback when it came. 

‘Can Helios read my thoughts?’

‘Not yet, I’d imagine. Just emotions. Ben used to cry when I cried. It comforted me, then.’

Hux tapped out, unthinkingly, the strain of his fear overwhelming his usual reserve ‘Were you afraid?’

‘Yes. And you should be too.’

The Marshall snarled and abruptly tossed the datapad into the angry chop of cold water far below them. He crushed his smouldering cigarro in a closed fist, the embers scalding his palm and the fire sputtering, dying “Enough of this. I don’t want to hear anymore.”

The knight unfurled his fiancé’s fingers and nosed his reddening palm, before licking the ashes clean away with a hot tongue. Hux shuddered and muttered “…filthy. Like I said. FILTHY habit.”

But he was grateful. 

Their dialogue with Organa concluded, the new cycle dawned with fresh perspective and renewed vigour. The Marshall slept deeply long into the early clics, and the Supreme Leader allowed him to. He liked time alone with the twins when they woke, anyway. 

When they were still pliant and sleepy and affectionate. 

Helios’ feedback in particular made the knight swell with feeling. It was not that he felt more deeply than his brother, but everything was – simple. Crystalline. He was grateful when he was fed, happy when he was warm. And easy to please. But, he found Sulla’s contrasting demanding nature a blessing, too. 

“I will teach you to meditate.” The Supreme Leader told Hux, when he’d finally managed to coax the man out of bed with a hot pot of caf and a sloppy rod-job. 

The Marshall snorted dismissively “Of course, Ren, when Argonian rhino-pigs fly I’ll gladly oblige.” He yawned and snatched his (new, unbroken) datapad from the breakfast counter “Why don’t you do something more useful and teach the babies to swim, instead. I have work to do.”

Argonian rhino-pigs have no legs. Or arms. Let alone wings. 

The knight silently and methodically listed off all of the reasons why he wasn’t going to choke Armitage until he turned purple. Most of them involved the man’s body, in some way. 

Nonetheless: teaching the twins to swim was a good idea. It was an abnormally warm day for the Equinox season, and so the knight stripped to his loose, grey leggings and wrestled the boys into their swimming suits. Tailored and embossed with the Order’s logo, of course. Kylo had no inkling where Hux got these hideous outfits from, and didn’t care to ask. 

The boys had been bathed before, but large bodies of water were a mystery to them. 

Ordinarily, Sulla was by far the bolder of the two. Strutting (as much as a crawl COULD strut) about, investigating various dangerous devices and wandering off on his own without permission. But today, his null son seemed extremely wary. He eyed the cool navy lick of the bathing pool at the back of the villa with suspicion, and clutched at his Father’s bare chest when the knight went to lower him into his flotation seat.

“Dada NA! No!” he babbled, stubbornly “No, Dada! No bu!”

The Marshall swept out of the villa doors and settled on a nearby recliner, spreading his work around him “Don’t let him boss you about, Ren.”

“Like I let you?” Kylo spat, derisively, under his breath. But decided not to make a confrontation of it. 

“Come now, Sully.” He wheedled, stroking the quivering child’s hair “Elio likes it. See?”

Helios, trusting and bidding as always, was already seated comfortably in his floating chair and flapping his arms and legs, delighted at the chaos of splashing he was making. 

“Mama, ook!” he shrieked, thrilled, and Armitage waved and shot him an indulgent smile from his recliner. 

Sulla continued to gripe and push his face against Ren’s belly, scrabbling into his lap whenever the knight went to dislodge him. The Supreme Leader sighed. 

“Ubby!” Helios squeaked, paddling over with impressive autonomy “Ubba kay?”

He was radiating concern for his twin, small face twisting. Sulla peeked out, still scowling, dithering when he saw how proficient his brother was in the water. If there was one thing Ren’s null son hated, it was being beaten at something. 

ESPECIALLY by Helios. 

He lunged for his float-chair, and the Supreme Leader caught him deftly before disaster occurred. Strapped the now impatient infant in, before sliding into the water beside them. Sulla sat shivering, stiff and unconvinced. He slapped the water gingerly. 

The knight began carefully instructing his children, eavesdropping on Armitage’ conversation behind him. He was in discussions with Darjeeling Ti about their latest press releases. 

“…of course, the choice is yours, Grand Marshall!” the miniature holo of the Wintourian was enthusing, palms pressed together “But my advice would be, if the unwashed masses want holos, give them some! A small output would whet their appetite and reduce illicit interest.”

Hux tapped his nails against the worn chrome of his Tarine teacup, scowling “What do you propose?”

Helios was thrilled to discover he could splash Sulla with a small sweep of his chubby arms. Sulla shrieked, enraged, and returned fire. 

“A holo-shoot, a combination of intimate ‘at home’ visuals, and formal portraits…?” Darjeeling wheedled, twirling the ends of his moustache round a long, slender fingernail. 

“I don’t want the galaxy knowing what our children look like.” The Marshall snapped. Ren scowled, separating the twins easily and guiding them over to the side of the pool, lifting them and then himself, out. 

He padded over to his fiancé, chest bare and dripping fatly onto the warmed firestones beneath his feet. Sulla and Helios were still attempting to engage in fisticuffs in his arms. 

Darjeeling exhaled, lengthy and melodramatic “How to put this delicately, sir: they will, by hook or by crook. Best to maintain control. And this is the way to do so.”

“One moment.” Armitage said, cuttingly, and froze and muted the call. He rounded on Ren “I don’t like this. I HATE this.”

The Supreme Leader sat beside him, thighs flush. He smirked as Hux noted his gown growing damp at the contact “You hired him. I don’t care. You decide.”

The boys had quieted. They both knew better than to fuss when their Mother’s face looked like THAT. Armitage peered at both of them, stroking their cheeks in turn. He was conflicted. Kylo could sense the decision tearing at the man’s insides, and thought: see how you like it. 

He unmuted the holo-call and snapped “Darjeeling. Make preparations. You may bring only yourself and TWO staff.”

The tiny man shrieked, delighted. Helios gurgled and reached for the strange, little blue man “Very well! Although I would prefer my entourage of dressers, lighting staff, make-up moguls, assistants…”

“Two.” Hux clarified, sternly. 

Darjeeling sighed, heartbroken “As you wish, Grand Marshall. I will be there before you know it!”

“Oh, goodie.” Armitage enthused, deadpan. He ended the call and pressed pale, delicate fingertips to his temples, rubbing. 

“Ti!” Sulla said, thoughtfully “Dabebeetee!” 

Well. At least somebody was enthusiastic, Kylo thought, dully.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the wait my loves! I've had a truly terrible week with all the snow.

“So. If you’re the King of Naboo in waiting…does this mean the boys are Princes?”

The Supreme Leader pushed his nose against the pale insides of Armitage’ inner left thigh, sodden, sated and distracted “Mmm. Or, will be. Once I’m crowned.”

It always astounded him how ALERT Hux could be immediately after sex. It seemed to set his mind alight, rather than dulling it. Perhaps because he was such a dispassionate man otherwise. Or, in this case, it was possibly the boxes and boxes of costumes and jewellery Darjeeling had had delivered. 

The Marshall would never admit it, but he liked pretty things.

Ren knew this because he could feel the hop-skip of blood in Hux’ neck whenever he was presented with something intricate and expensive. Saw how his pupils blew and his fingers twitched, clutching. His fiancé had never been allowed to own things. Never had toys, never chosen his own clothes – not even as a grown man. He had coveted his dull uniforms like spun gold. 

But that was beginning to change. Kylo liked indulging him. 

Despite the lacing of suspicion and bitterness, whenever he allowed Hux to have what he wanted? He received a SLAM of indescribable feedback from the man. Pleasure. Gratefulness. Pride. Lust. One and all of these feelings. It was like a punch to the gut, and Ren relished it. 

There was something deliciously sacrilegious about this. 

The knight was lazing in the curl of their sheets, skull pillowed on Hux’ soft thigh. They were naked and tacky with sweat and cum, and were playing dress-up like children. Armitage had put a particularly ridiculous circlet on his head, one with a great halo of purple plumage spattered with gold. He looked like a concubine.

…perhaps Ren would keep it.

All of the garments and adornments were priceless relics of Nabooan history, of course. Some taken from displays, some wrenched from private collections. But Naboo was Kylo’s now and so was its heritage. He could consecrate or discard it as he desired. 

“Oh! This is D’jinn’ian coral!” the Marshall was cooing, handling a threadlike metal chain with a smooth pink rock carved in the likeness of some kind of insect, with eleven wings “It has healing properties. I want it.”

The Supreme Leader waved a lazy hand “Then it’s yours. All of it. I don’t care.”

The Marshall hummed, eyes shining a depthless, vivid green “I think I’ll keep it for Sulla. It’ll soothe his gum-pains.”

For some reason, Sulla was sprouting teeth before his twin was. It hurt, and the child was EXTREMELY vocal about that. 

It tore Ren apart to hear. 

He could cope with his son’s wailing because they were tired, or grumpy, or hungry, or covered in shit. But this sound…it was PAIN. The knight perceived a mirror image of his own confusion and wretchedness in Sulla’s miniature, scarlet, wrinkled face.

He’d left. Retreated to the north-east wing and torn it apart, panicked, enraged. Helpless.

Armitage had no problem confronting his sons when they were hurting. 

He was desensitized to the very concept himself: to the Marshall, pain was somewhat of an inconvenience. He only noted it if it stopped him from moving. Nonetheless, he was patient and gentle, never chastising the children for voicing their displeasure. Talking to them, softly, constantly. 

Mummy’s here. Mummy’s here. It’s alright.

This was because Hux knew what it was to scream, and for nobody to answer. 

Something pinched the Supreme Leader’s ear, HARD “-re you listening to me?!”

“No.” Kylo replied, grunting softly and dragging Hux down to lay with him on their castle of spoils “What do you want? I’m sleepy.”

Hux’ lip curled cruelly, and he dug his nails hard against the knight’s crotch “You KNOW what.”

Thankfully, the twin’s slept clean through that night. 

“Teeth, please.” Armitage said clearly to a belligerent Sulla, who was sulkily pulling at the ivory collar of his little formal costume.

“Tee-pee!” their son replied, and opened his mouth. The Marshall began gently rubbing the pedi-numb gel onto the child’s gums, shushing him when he griped. 

Helios yawned from the sanctuary of his Father’s arms, head bobbing sleepily. He’d already managed to muss-up his carefully coiffed hair, and drool on his cuffs. The children were dressed in black plush-velvet body suits with white collars and slippers. The cuffs and slippers were embossed with an intricate and obviously expensive gold thread pattern: dots. 

A nod to their Nabooan blood. 

“It’s wonderful that you’ve embraced the symbolism of this luscious native planet, dear Marshall!” Darjeeling simpered, drinking in the opulence of their wardrobe with greedy eyes “Your children look a scrumptious treat!”

He made the mistake of going to pat Helios on the head. Usually placid, the infant’s hackles rose and he GROWLED.

Armitage laughed derisively as the Wintourian jumped back, alarmed “He’s copying you, Kylo. I’d know that ‘grrrrrr’ face anywhere.”

“Rarrrrrr!” Elio repeated, flapping his miniature fists. The Supreme Leader stroked his son’s hair, sending him tendrils of reassurance. Helios did NOT like having visitors. He hated their new smell and their new aura and their new voices. 

And he certainly didn’t like Them going anywhere near his Mother. Or his brother. 

The Marshall had colluded with Darjeeling that morning on their costumes. Ren had stubbornly stripped back many of the intricacies that’d been involved in his own garb. Future King of Naboo or no, he was a warrior first. He wouldn’t soon let the people of the galaxy forget that. 

He and Armitage had compromised: the knight was to wear the neatest and most formal of his robes, but with some few Nabooan touches. His hair was pulled back into a high-tail (he’d flatly refused when the Wintourian had eagerly proposed buns) and had intricate plaits laced with gold filigree. Hux had even talked him into some small elements of Nabooan face paint.

“I know you hate your ears,” the Marshall muttered, dabbing a dapple-soft brush into a fat palette of scarlet lip-paint “But you look older and more regal this way.”

Kylo had questions.

Firstly, WHEN had Hux surmised that he didn’t like his ears…? He had never told the man. And second, what in Hells was he thinking, allowing this?!

He snarled, and snatched his fiancé’s wrist with a steely grip “I’ll do it.”

The knight handed Helios to Hux. Infant and Mother promptly cocked their heads to the side with precisely the same semi-frown, and watched Kylo apply a rigid line of scarlet to his lips, and two perfectly round dots beneath his eyes. 

“…you’re. Adept at this.” The Marshall noted, taken aback.

“Dadda pwee-tee!” Helios complimented, proudly. The Supreme Leader snorted and dabbed a tiny scarlet blob onto his son’s nose. The child shrieked, delighted, and reached for him. 

“I used to do calligraphy.” Ren replied, mumbling, and lifted Sulla when he crawled over his feet and tugged on his robes imperiously. The knight raised the brush in question, and the baby shook his head, firmly “Dada NA.”

“…is that so? You must teach the boys their letters, then.” The Marshall snorted, amused. 

Darjeeling Ti rubbed his spindly hands together, gleefully “All done? My my what a picture you all look! I could just consume you and spit you back out!”

The Wintourian visage specialist Darjeeling had brought set about nervously fixing Hux’ clothes: a simplified version of his dress uniform, but still in white. Helios and his Father both watched beadily, and growled at the same time when she began to fuss at the Marshall’s hair. She squeaked and jumped back. 

“The foyer first, I propose? In front of the mosaic depiction of the Congress of Naberrus?” Darjeeling bounced on the balls of his feet “Remember! The goal with this selection is to project our core campaign values: power, grace, family, and heritage.”

Ren thought the whole thing was a kark of sithspit, but Hux seemed to be enjoying the fuss. So.

He could feel tension rising in the Marshall like poison, as the holo-recorders were being set up. Armitage was still not at peace with the idea of dispensing pictures of their children to the galaxy. Ren understood – and agreed. They were possessive men. But…

He set his palm on his fiancé’s hip and squeezed, slowly “This is about control.” Kylo murmured against Hux’ ear “Remember. This is about keeping the TABL-0 droids from the door.”

Armitage nodded, lips pursed. He wasn’t happy. 

“AAAAH!” the holo-attendant shrieked, as Sulla made a grab for her tripod “P-please, your highness, that’s very delicate equipment-“

“SULLA.” Ren barked, without bite. Smirking. 

“Dadda, mine!” his son protested, pouting furiously. ‘Mine’ was his new favourite word. And he used it a lot. 

“No, not yours.” The knight admonished, but couldn’t hold a smile from creeping across his lips. 

Click!

Armitage snarled “Already?!”

Darjeeling bowed low, nose twitching “Candid holos make the best holos, dear Marshall! To catch the true eclipse of emotion as it races across the features…unguarded, untapped…this is the beauty of holo art! Of course, you may review every shot and select those that you like for dispensation.”

It went on forever.

Holos standing up. Holos sitting down. Armitage holding Helios, Armitage holding Sulla. Armitage holding BOTH (Darjeeling was still subtly building his narrative of divine Matron for the Marshall). Holos in the gardens, holos indoors. When the boys began to fuss and needed feeding, holos were taken of them getting goop all over their clothes. This prompted a swift costume change. 

After lunch, they settled the twins for a nap and set about what Darjeeling referred to as the ‘power couple’ holos. 

“Nothing sordid.” The Marshall warned, lip curling, when the Wintourian suggested he sit on Ren’s lap. Kylo was somewhat disappointed. He had no shame, in this. Let them see. Hux was his. Let the galaxy know it. 

“I confess I’m surprised, Marshall! You’ve collared the most powerful and striking man in galactic memory! Surely you’d want to gloat about it…?” Darjeeling wheedled. 

Armitage opened his mouth, then closed it, stung. Then tugged on Kylo’s left ear and dragged him down into a firm, long kiss. No teeth, for once. 

And so it went on. 

Hux was thinking about his past again.

Recalling sitting for a painting, for clics and clics and clics. Bones aching, skin itching, his NAN droid pinching him everytime his head dipped, struggling to stay awake. 

“Enough!” the Marshall snapped, eventually, as Helios began to cry and tug at his collar “We’re done. Darjeeling, we’ll debrief on this tomorrow.”

The evening was very quiet.

The Supreme Leader lit the fire in the living quarters with a wave of his palm, and Hux brought blankets from their bedroom. The galaxy felt oppressive and present in a way it hadn’t before: their sanctuary had been infiltrated by unwelcome eyes and ears and voices. Helios was particularly upset about this, clinging to his Mother and sniffling. 

Sulla wouldn’t settle, either. 

The knight sat cross legged on the floor and played his son’s favourite game with him: jiggle. Sulla would kick his legs and bob up and down, wobbling and swaying and trying to gain purchase on the floor. Ren held him patiently. The child was thinking about legs. The forest of legs that had been there during the day, weaving through them. He was concluding that he, too, had tree-legs. 

Armitage shivered, and drew closer to Ren, pressing his side flush to his. He was tired, in mind, not in body. 

“…are you trying to walk, my love?” he murmured, quietly, stroking Sulla’s soft, coral-pink ear. The infant huffed “Kylo. Let him go a moment.”

The knight drew his palms carefully away from his son’s trunk, keeping them hovering close, in case. Sulla flapped his arms, wobbled. Then blinked in surprise as his feet and knees held him, cautiously, upright. He stared up at his parents with pride and question “…Dadda? Ook!”

The Marshall sighed: his aura sang with mourning even as he said “Excellent work, Sully.”

Hux’ datapad pinged, haughtily. The Marshall consulted it, then grinned “Oh! Admiral Sloane is arriving planetside tomorrow.”

The Supreme Leader shuddered, and had a sudden, crystal clear pang of foreboding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm making a little list of all the cute little plot scenarios I want to write for the twins, and I need your help! Yes, you! What would you like to read? :D 
> 
> This story will cover the twins infancy until they're about five!


	9. Chapter 9

The Supreme Leader was NOT nervous.

Nothing intimidated him. He was the most powerful being in the entire breadth of the galaxy. He could crush a Goliathan’s skull without so much as flicking a finger. At his word, the lives of a thousand billion lifeforms could be snuffed, effortlessly, from existence. He had NOTHING to fear from a stout, angry humanoid two-thirds his height.

This is what he told himself, as Hux changed his jacket for the thirteenth time that cycle, after waking “Should I wear my uniform?”

The knight groaned and sprawled inelegantly on the living-suite recliner, head-cocked, half listening to his children play behind them “Has she seen you out of it?!”

Armitage paused, his long, pale fingertips working at the hem of the jacket collar. The man had combed his hair a hundred times already, applied soft face-creams, wiped them clear, re-applied powders. Ren would declare him anxious, but he wasn’t.

This was something else. 

When the Marshall was anxious, or afraid, he defaulted to rage. They were matched in this. He’d spit and cuss and hurl himself at the galaxy, rail against his turmoil. Not today “Well, yes, of course. But…”

“Then why bother?” the knight snapped, tucking his palms carefully behind his head and beginning his exercises. First: 100 situps.

The exercise regime served them well. Firstly as a release of stress for Kylo: secondly, as a warning flag to the Marshall that his fiancé’s temper was rising. 

Ren didn’t LIKE this. He didn’t like it at all. This was new, unshod territory. This woman knew Hux. HAD known Hux, for longer than the knight had known him. And she’d known him very well. The true extent, and the nature of it? Kylo didn’t know. They were difficult to categorise. Not quite Mother and Son. Hardly Aunt and Nephew. Not simply friends. 

He and Armitage were similar. 

Partners didn’t fit. Nor did co-commanders. Fiancé, betrothed, engaged. This was a fact, but all three of these words didn’t truly describe the depth and possession of their bond. Ah, that was another. Bonded. Hux was a null, so they could never be ‘bonded’ in the fullest sense of the phrase. He had pondered on the Marshall’s future title, also. Wife? Queen? Consort…?

“It’s a matter of respect.” Hux was saying, bristling keenly, his aura spiking. 

Armitage was excited, Ren realised, suddenly. 

Blood pooled in his stomach and BURNED there. That was it: Hux wasn’t nervous. He was excited. In an entirely new way. This was not the anticipation of firing his Superweapon: nor of sex, nor of indulging in a food he particularly liked. This excitement was muted, laced with a cooling spool of quiet relief. 

“You don’t respect anyone.” He countered, snarling. Sulla’s ears pricked at the noise, and the infant wobbled precariously to his slippered feet, and padded over to investigate his Father’s disquiet. He never liked it when Ren got upset. 

“I respect her.” The Marshall replied, firmly, as though that settled the matter. 

The knight inhaled sharply through his nose and distracted himself with his son. He settled the infant on his chest and bade him cling on as he continued his sit-ups. The child shrieked, delighted. 

“Mama, pees!” Helios called, crawling towards his Mother’s feet. Armitage smiled That Smile and swept the child eagerly into his arms. 

“Do you respect me?” Kylo burst out, suddenly, chest heaving and hot palms curling around their son’s head carefully. 

Hux turned only his chin, not his body, to look over his shoulder at the Supreme Leader. He considered the question for a long, excruciating moment, before concluding with wretched, quiet diplomacy “Sometimes.”

The knight deflated: assuaged, a little. Sulla patted his Father’s cheeks and declared “Pway, Dadda, now!”

They heard the Admiral before they saw her. 

She’d filed no flight plan and remained stubbornly silent to the Marshall’s attempts to coax an arrival time from her. Apparently, this was normal: while renowned as one of the most ruthlessly efficient officers the Empire, and indeed the Order, had ever entertained, Rae Sloane didn’t care for timetables. It was a mystery why she’d taken wardship of Armitage, the most fastidious and prim of children, who in adulthood had a schedule of his SCHEDULES. 

‘The battle starts AFTER MY KRIFFING CAF, YOU ANIMALS!’ she had famously roared at the battle of Yavin Prime. The enemy, in attendance via live holo-feed, promptly ceased fire and waited quietly for the Admiral to wake up. 

Helios heard the shouting first, blinking twice and turning his attention away from his favourite toy, Bok the Ewok. 

“Who the kark still uses a space GONDOLA to get about, are these people savages?! No I do NOT need help alighting, thank you very much! I may be old but I could blow your head off faster than you could squeak out a fart, boy!”

Hux’ lips quirked and his eyes crinkled, turning a verdant, gentle green: he swept swiftly through the open doors onto the veranda, to where a brief set of steps led down to the dock.

The Supreme Leader crept after him: settling with palms flat against the balcony rail, watching closely, concealed. 

Rae Sloane had become a stout, but not fat, woman as she aged. Her body had a thickness and a strength to it which was evident as she walked (or rather, stomped) with militant precision down the length of the dock. She wore clothes much reminiscent of her Imperial uniform, but swept in shades of dark scarlet and coal grey. Her hair was close-cropped and streaked with silver, slicked back from her face (just as Armitage used to, Kylo noted). 

What struck the most about her was her eyes. 

Even from this distance, the Supreme Leader could see that they were lit with keen intelligence, flitting about, her gaze cutting the scenery about her like a blade through flesh. He was utterly alarmed by how much of the Marshall he could see in her: the angry squint to the eye, the stomp, the thrown-back shoulder blades. 

This was the woman who had forged his fiancé from boy to man. 

The Marshall and the Admiral slammed to a halt at the bottom of the villa steps, a mere pace apart. Hux cleared his throat and said, with thinly veiled formality “Admiral Sloane. Greetin-“

Sloane’s palm lashed out, faster than a dart-fish in a squall, and cuffed Hux sharply upside the back of the head, balanced neatly on the balls of her feet to reach “Armitage, you stupid little bastard! What did I tell you about spreading your legs for some squibbler with a big cock?!”

The Supreme Leader had his palm outstretched before he could blink, vision RED-

Armitage was smiling. That quiet, conspiratorial quirk of the lips he had when he wasn’t telling Ren something. Sharp merriment danced in the Admiral’s dark eyes. 

“…c’mere.” She said, gruffly, reaching stiff but engulfing arms around the Marshall’s shoulders and dragging him roughly against her “How are you?”

Armitage melted into the gulp of her embrace, as though he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

Memories scrabbled gently beneath the surface of both their thoughts: the knight had a brief, crystalline snapshot of a boy, abominably thin but tall for his age, folded against her firm belly and shuddering with tears he wouldn’t cry. She hadn’t pet his hair: hadn’t wiped his cheeks or tugged a white slip of fabric from some crevice for him to clear his nose on.

But she had held him. She’d stayed. She’d kept him, for awhile. And that had been more than enough. A firm hand, a hard heart, and unconditional love. 

“Better.” Hux was replying, a little thickly, drawing back. They stood together for a long moment, simply eying eachother. 

The knight wanted to hate this. Wanted to hate how the Marshall had never looked so relaxed, so free of tension. So assured he was safe. But Ren couldn’t quite hate this. It was – too deserved. 

The moment passed: the Admiral snorted, and they turned together, Armitage holding out a graceful forearm for her. She grudgingly looped her gnarled, stern arm through his “You look less stringy, thank kark. The Supreme Brat been feeding you more than dick, has he?”

“RAE.” The Marshall admonished, blood filling his ears. But he was still smiling, lowly. 

“What? And where the Hells is the brandy?” the woman snapped in her coarse, clear voice, clean as a bell but rumbling like a miniature quake “Well, out with it. Take me to these brats of yours.”

“Rae.” The Marshall licked his lips and hesitated, as they mounted the crest of the steps “…I.” 

‘Missed you.’ It wasn’t voiced. Ren caught it. He was alarmed to see that Sloane did, too.

“Yeah.” She flicked Hux’ ear with the neat curl of her forefinger: another tic the man seemed to have subsumed from her “Yeah, I know. Me too, kid. You’re alright. Come on now.”

She cocked a thick eyebrow, and leered directly at the knight’s hiding place “You too, your hulkingness.”

Kylo’s lips twitched, and he felt he had betrayed himself. Kark it. He – he LIKED her. 

Caught, he rolled his shoulders back and emerged from the shadows. Armitage snorted at his melodrama, and extended his fingers to him “Admiral, I’m sure you need no introduction. This is Kylo Ren.” He hesitated “Supreme-“

Sloane waved her hand sharply, dismissing the cascade of words that would usually follow “Yeah, yeah. Congratulations on having more titles than Thanisson’s got venereal diseases, boy.”

The knight’s eyes narrowed. But she didn’t mean outright disrespect: she simply didn’t seem to care. Not for the titles, not for the pomp. He could surmise from her thoughts that was she was under no delusion as to how great a threat he was. But it was a scenario she was well acquainted with: being surrounded by those more powerful than herself. And still commanding attention.

Armitage had clearly learned this from her, too. 

“Nice place.” The Admiral commented, taking in the artwork and sheer marbled floors with keen disinterest. 

“Ren’s Grandmother’s, apparently.” Hux replied, easily, looping his spare hand through Kylo’s arm so they walked in a strange, slanted triad. 

“Least your bastards have some blood of quality in them.” Sloane sniped, teeth flashing. The Marshall unleashed a bark of derisive laughter.

The twins were lurking in their playroom: Kylo was never unaware of what they were doing, how they were feeling. It was somewhat like the bond he shared with his knights, only much, much stronger. They weren’t quite a hybrid mind, but they felt one another. Even Sulla. 

…who, curious about the fuss, had toddled out of the playroom door and was peeking around the corner as they approached, dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. Helios was nervous. He could sense there was someone NEW, here. 

“Sully! Elio!” the Marshall called, with soft command “Come here.”

“Come, Ewwo!” Sulla repeated to his hesitant twin, before stomping confidently down the corridor, chest puffed out and eyes defiant. 

Beside him, Hux snorted and muttered “I see he’s already mimicking the Skywalker Stomp.”

Ren shot him a poisonous look in reprise. 

Rae Sloane grinned with tight abandon, and lifted the pompous child as he approached her: Sulla was too stunned at her insolence to do anything but stare and gape “Hello, small thing.” She greeted, pinching his cheek gently “Hello. Welcome to this wretched cesspit we call a galaxy, sweetness.”

Sulla looked to his parents: sensed that they weren’t alarmed, then frowned, confused “Mama whassa sissy-pee?”

The Admiral laughed harshly and patted the boy’s back “Armitage, you fiend. He’s gorgeous.”

“I know.” Hux said, with arrogant abandon, taking two broad steps down the corridor and retrieving a still-shy Helios from clinging to the wall “This is Helios. And you’ve got Sulla.”

Helios immediately hid his face in his Mother’s neck, cheeks burning, and tried to burrow inside his clothes. The Marshall sighed, and jiggled him “Elio. This is my – friend. Say hello.”

Aghast, their son peeked out, sending a tentative tendril of question directly to his Father’s mind. The knight folded his arms, lips pursed: nodded, curtly. Helios unfurled a small, starlike palm and waved, uncertainly, at Sloane “Lo-lo! Me, Ewio!”

He had impeccable manners, even if his speech wasn’t on par with his twin’s just yet. The Marshall’s lips quirked “Boys. This is-“

“Granny Rae!! You lucky little bastards!” Sloane burst out, eyes shining and arms strong around Sulla’s back. The child was still staring openly at her, sizing her up: when Ren consulted his mind, he found the child was curious about her nut-brown skin and the silver in her hair, the wrinkles in her face “They got your hair. Shame. Tough one to camouflage in the field.”

“Ganny Bae???” Helios repeated, carefully, his confidence growing as the Admiral continued to smile at him “Hewwo!”

Sloane smirked “Oh, he’s gonna be hell for the gents and the ladies and all the rest, isn’t he?”

The Marshall hummed, shifting imperceptibly closer to Ren’s shoulder “I want you to be Life-Mother, Admiral.” He said, soberly “If something happens…”

The knight scowled at him. There was no need. NOTHING would happen. Nothing could. 

The Admiral nodded, curtly “I understand. But you’d best find someone younger too, Armie.” 

Kylo blinked. ARMIE?

“Whassa Ganny, Mama?” Sulla asked, haughtily, prodding at the Admiral’s cheek with breathless rudeness. She promptly licked his outstretched finger, and the child made a delightful ‘ewwwwww!’ sound that he’d copied from his Mother. 

The Marshall hefted Helios higher in his arms, frowning: the boys were getting heavier “Well. I’m your Mother. And the Admiral is – sort of, my Mother.”

The Marshall’s aura sang with high tension: somewhere inside his mind, little Armitage expected Sloane to sneer. Deny this. But she said nothing. Continued to make strange, contorted faces at an utterly bemused Sulla. Ren slid his fingers against the small of Hux’ back, pushing softly against his spine. His fiancé inhaled, relaxing slowly. 

“….kay.” Sulla finally concluded, and flapped his hands imperiously “Ganny, gemme pudding pees!”

The Marshall laughed, and lifted Sulla from the Admiral’s arms. The twins huddled automatically together, soothed, toes curling “Well then: dinner.”

The Supreme Leader turned to follow, but a clawlike hand caught his elbow, tightly “Not so fast, you.” The woman’s eyes glinted with low danger: she jerked her head towards the solitude of the veranda “A word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Uh oh. Watch out, Kylo!!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In which Kylo nearly dies, makes a friend, and then loses a vital space-battle.

Sulla and Helios had their Mother’s chin – but not his nose. 

The Supreme Leader knew this, because Rae Sloane had thought about it. In her mind, she held the memories of Armitage Hux as a child. Before his bones grew into his own Father’s jaw and his Mother’s high cheekbones. He had had a rodent-like quality to his face, then. Bony and skinny rather than slender and pink, as he was now. 

The Grand Admiral was leading him as though she had the entire complex mapped in her head. The knight consulted her thoughts, found them tapered to a razorlike point: find some alcohol. Go outside. Talk. 

“Don’t bother.” She sniped, huskily, breath catching in her throat as she tossed a rough smile his way “I’m well practised in shielding from Users, thanks to Vader.”

Kylo tripped, hard, over the edge of his boot: his heart slammed against his ribs. He felt sick. 

“…he. Taught you.” The knight said, gruffly, quashing the stammer that threatened to engulf the words. 

Sloane snorted “Not exactly. We had a few conversations. He said it was like plucking fruit from a tree, y’know? If you want to know what somebody is thinking. What they’re NOT thinking…? That’s harder.”

…it was just like that. 

Ren wanted to scream at the galaxy, at mortality, at the Force, for separating him from his Grandfather like this.

She had been in his presence. Heard his voice (modulated though he knew it was). Been party, in some small way, to his life. Why her?! Why her, and not-

“You’re quiet like he was. All heavy breathing. Ccccurrr-keeee.” The Admiral commented, finally sniffing out the beverage cabinet in the pantry, and selecting a round, glistening bottle of rich, dark liquid black as blood “Rylothian cane-whisky! Kriffing Hells!”

She snatched up two bottles, not bothering with glasses: sniffed the air. She identified which door led towards the veranda, and turned on her heel, heading there. Ren followed in her wake, struck dumb, his autonomy fleeing from him. He had- anticipated that she’d remind him of Organa. But she didn’t.

It was dusk. Cold was beginning to bite in the air, and the ice-spiders were rubbing their hairy legs together down by the lake, producing an intolerable humming sound.

Like a lightsabre blade. 

The Admiral deposited one of the whisky bottles into Ren’s loose arms, and he fumbled, nearly dropping it: growling openly at her. She merely smirked “Down, boy. I’m too old to give a shit if you bite me. I’ll bet you do. Bet Armie LOVES it.”

She uncorked her bottle and took a swift, methodical swig, throat bobbing. Stared out at the glassy stillness of the lake, stretching deceptive and mirror-like out before them.

The knight watched her closely. Her thoughts were tainted and calm.

Sloane smacked her lips and rounded on him “Well, now that charade is over. Let’s talk plainly, shall we…?”

Ren bristled: he didn’t know how to speak to this woman. He could kill her. She knew that. She didn’t CARE. She looked at him like he was a boy. Like she’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t be. He wanted to HATE her.

“Armitage is my ward. That hasn’t changed: not ever. Though he’s grown, now.” The Admiral swirled her bottle languidly, spinning memories in its depths “Don’t see much difference myself. He was a little snake and now he’s a taller, more foolish snake.”

She hadn’t asked for Armitage Hux. Nor he for her. But they’d found one another. Kylo stared at her, and his bare feet stung against the pale stones beneath his feet. Sloane said, quiet but firm “He’s been alone for a very long time.” 

A dead cat. 

The Admiral was thinking about a dead cat. Surrounded by cold, limp, pink balls of still fur. And one, the smallest of them all, squirming, mewling thinly. It’d had a thatch of reddish brown fur like Armitage’ hair. 

It’d been the first time she’d ever seen the boy cry. 

“I’ll never let him go.” Kylo burst out, wildly. It lilted like a question, although it was a statement. 

“That’s terribly reassuring.” Sloane replied, dryly, sharp eyes narrowing to slits “You been hurting him?”

The Supreme Leader’s throat burned. He would not look at her. He NEED not. She was an insect. Her hold over the Marshall was a phantom: he could wipe her from his memory-

But it’d take a sizeable chunk of Hux, the man – the Mother of his children – with it. 

After an eternity of silence, Ren murmured “Not anymore. Not…not on purpose.”

If the woman had admonished him further, been snide – he’d likely have snapped her neck. But she didn’t. She nodded, accepting this. Because it was the truth “He’s been hurt enough.”

Kylo dug his teeth against his lower lip until it hurt “I know.”

The Admiral said nothing. Took another long swig of the whisky. Behind them, they could hear the burble of Sulla talking animatedly to his Mother about what he wanted for dinner, and Hux’ firm denials for each and every outlandish request. Sulla griped for his Father. Helios played quietly with his spoons, levitating them jerkily. 

His family. 

The Supreme Leader swallowed past an enormous pain his throat “I won’t let him go. Them, go. No matter what. No matter what you say or think, or do.” 

Sloane raised a questioning eyebrow at him: the knight stumbled on “He’s insufferable. Surely you know this, Admiral, but I- I want him.”

The woman’s dark eyes flashed, and she demanded “You’ll protect him.”

“Yes.” Kylo replied, instantly, breathless. Wretched. But somehow, he didn’t feel ashamed. She was the first woman since – the scavenger girl, who hadn’t made him feel ashamed. 

“I tried to tell him.” The Admiral tutted, talking to herself “He asked me once: will you always come for me, now? I told him: no. You gotta learn to save yourself, kid, not just sit around waiting.” 

Hux didn’t have to wait anymore, Ren thought. He belonged to Kylo now. 

“Course…I always come when I can.” Sloane was muttering, her bottle half empty “You’re both brutes. Perhaps you belong together.” 

In the cantinette, Helios squeaked and dropped his spoons with an almighty clatter. The Marshall jumped out of his skin, and scolded the infant firmly. The child whimpered until his Mother caved in, and kissed his cheek. 

A muscle jumped in Sloane’s worn cheek “There’s something strangely precious about him, isn’t there? Something so fragile, and so broken, yet so STRONG.” She nodded to herself, a sharp dip of the chin “That’s what I liked most, when I met him. That – fire. You’re similar.”

“Yes.” Ren said, shortly, and clinked his bottle against hers: he felt warm “Toast, Admiral.”

The acrid line of tension singing in the air soared and then POPPED, smartly, and the world released a long-held breath. 

“I expect to walk him at the wedding.” The Admiral grumbled, looping her left claw into the crook of the knight’s arm as they turned to go back inside. 

“I would want no other.” The Supreme Leader returned, and was surprised to find he meant it “I would fear the consequences, otherwise.”

“Smart boy.” Sloane snorted, then frowned “It’s a shame you didn’t come to us sooner, and under better circumstances. Had Vader survived to see you…”

Kylo stared at her: surprised. 

He had often wondered so, himself. Often asked of his former master if he could seek out others who had known Vader, other purveyors of the dark. Snoke, he realised now, had leashed his curiosity just as Skywalker had. Fearing him: fearing what he could do. No more. It WAS a shame. He would’ve liked to have known Rae Sloane, earlier. 

“Tell me about him. Tell me everything you know.” He commanded, although the hush of ‘please’ hung unsaid in the air, like a bad odour. 

“Not very much.” The Admiral pondered, thinking “He was. Powerful. Frightful. Very…sad.” She cocked her head, regarding the knight intently “A brilliant tactician…they never gave him much credit for that. An excellent pilot.” 

They drew to a halt just out of reach of Hux’ nosy ears “You remind me of him, and perhaps, not in a good way.” 

He had the saddest eyes she had ever seen. That’s what the woman was thinking. 

But not only that: the lumbering gait, the set of the shoulders. The wild swings from empty calculation to incandescent rage. So he WAS like Vader! He’d known he would be. 

The Admiral punched him hard in the shoulder with a closed fist, grinning: Ren didn’t flinch “All I can tell you is this: Vader lived too much for the past. He was blinded by it…couldn’t see what was plainly in front of him.”

Yes. The Skywalker twins. Indeed….

“Mama, whes Dadda go?” Sulla trilled, tartly, pouting. 

The Marshall rolled his eyes and stroked his son’s hair “He’ll be back soon, my love. Be patient.”

“Ganny Bae too???”

“Yes, and Granny too.”

Sloane smirked darkly, and hissed in his ear “You have your man. You have your babes. Don’t feth that up.”

The Supreme Leader nodded, licking his lips slowly: he felt more like Kylo Ren, the realisation, the man, the warrior, the Father, the myth, than he ever had “I won’t.”

“Make an honest man of my boy, or I’ll blow a hole in your pretty little head.” The Admiral said, sweetly, and swept past him to coo over Helios’ damp cheeks. 

“I don’t doubt it.” The knight muttered, shuddering gently.

“This is some karking good whiskey, Armie!” the Admiral declared, throwing a callous arm around Hux’ shoulders as she barged into the cantinette. 

The Marshall looked at her warily “Is he alive?”

“Unfortunately.”

“In one piece?”

“Mostly.” Sloane smirked “At least, his co-“

“RAE.” Armitage hissed, lowly, covering Sulla’s ears “He hears EVERYTHING! Silence!”

In his chair, Helios squeezed Bok the Ewok shyly and waved at Sloane “Hewwo, Ganny Bae!” he held out a small pot of choco-bean mousse to her politely “Wanna puddin, pees?”

The Admiral blinked, struck by the boy’s uncanny manners, and smiles “Why I might just try some, sweetmeat. So polite!” to Hux, she hissed “Where in kark did you steal him from?”

The Marshall shot Ren a searching look, his knuckles white as he squeezed the edge of the counter island. The knight sidles over, and pinched his fiancé’s wrist, gently. Hux relaxed. 

“It’s bathtime.” He declared, nose wrinkling as he eyed the sordid mess Helios had made of his bib and clothes “Sloane, would you-“

“I look like a NAN-E droid to you, boy?” the Admiral snapped, silkily, playing hide-and-peek with Bok and Helios, much to the child’s delight. 

“Fair.” Hux grumbled, lifting a yawning Sulla from his chair with a grunt “Make yourself comfortable.”

The Admiral settled in the living suite with another bottle of cane-whiskey and a holopad (somebody needed to check in on the conquest of the Laikin System). Hux stripped himself of his silks and rolled his sleeves up, anticipating the inevitable damp. Ren liked him a lot, this way. Exposed and milky and strangely soft-looking.

Bathing was one of the only base pursuits the Marshall indulged in with the twins – as he put it. 

It was also a special rarity because both the boy’s enjoyed it: Sulla for the cleanliness, and Helios for the play. Once lowered into the bubble-ridden warm water, the child instantly shrieked, splashed himself and his brother, and grabbed for his TIE-Fighter bath toy “Pu pu pu! Boo!!!”

Armitage levelled the knight with a stern look, lips pursed, as he lathered up a squinting Sulla’s hair “…Ren. Did you teach our sons to…make ‘pew pew pew’ noises…?”

“No.” the Supreme Leader lied, shamelessly, taking up a nearby miniature Star Destroyer and engaging in hot pursuit of the fleeing ship. 

The battle raged for some time: Helios keenly evading his Father’s ship with a few well-timed dives beneath the cavernous waves of the bathwater, and hiding behind bottles of lotion (where the Star Destroyer was too large to follow). Thus, they arrived at standoff, siege. What was to be done…?

“SUWENDA!!!” Sulla suddenly shouted, and hurled the inflatable Death Star toy he’d been playing with straight at the lotion bottles.

Kylo cursed and dropped the Star Destroyer in surprise. Both it and the TIE plopped mournfully into the bath, downed. 

“We win.” Hux declared, smirking, patting Sulla’s smug head.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In which Helios worries about everyone, Sloane worries about Armie, Armie worries about Kylo, Kylo worries about Sulla, and Sulla worries about whether his slippers are really made of 100% Rylothian silk...

That night, Sloane insisted upon reviewing the holos.

The Supreme Leader can categorically state, without any shadow of doubt, that this is the most boring activity he’s ever been forced to partake in. Hux and his…Admiral, scrutinising each and every image before either deleting it or cataloguing it away. Cooing over Helios’ chubby cheeks or Sulla’s eternal scowl. 

Ren largely ignored them. Offered the odd affirmative grunt when interrogated. 

Sulla, quite rarely, was exhausted by the cycle’s events and took little interest. Once clean and dressed in his sleep-suit, he’d yawned and ensconced himself thoroughly in his Father’s chest. Bathtime seemed to have a soporific effect on the boy: consulting his thoughts, the knight gleaned that it reminded his son of being in the womb. 

…was that the last time Sulla remembered being safe?

Kylo stroked the expanse of his palm over the infant’s soft skull. And worried. 

“This is a nice one, isn’t it, sweetmeat?” Sloane commented, jiggling a gawping Helios as he waved his chubby fingers through the incorporeal holo image. 

“Na! Dis pees!” the child jabbed at the previous holo, a ‘candid’ shot of all four of them lounging together by the pool, Hux’ feet in his fiancé’s lap. 

“Look, Elio. Who’s this?” the Admiral asked, pointing to Armitage in the holo. She kept asking Helios to name people, name things. Claimed it would help his speech: the Supreme Leader, grudgingly, thought that she may be right. 

Helios blushed shyly, and squirmed over onto Hux’ lap, slipping a comforting thumb into his own mouth “Mmmmm…Mumma!” 

Sloane winked at the boy, eliciting a muffled giggle: she pointed to Ren “And who’s this?”

“Dadda!!” Helios squeaked, instantly, giving his real Father a wave so enthusiastic he nearly toppled from his Mother’s lap. Armitage caught him, easily. 

“And this?”

“Suwwa! An Ewwo!” the infant mumbled, proudly, chest puffed outwards. 

The Admiral blinked, impressed “Ooooh, you can tell yourselves apart? What a smartie nerf.”

The Supreme Leader allowed the soft lull of their voices to lurk in the background. His son’s hair beneath his fingers was impossibly soft and a deep, burnished red, reminding him of a humming blade. The combination of Sulla’s heat and the slip of whiskey in his belly left him – dulled. He knew this was unwise. His Master had forbidden-

Well. Kark THEM. Ren tossed his cut-glass tumbler back, swallowing another two measures easily. He’d only ever drunk to excess once before. 

It’s only when Armitage’ cool fingertips probe his left cheek, that he realises his eyes have slipped closed (he knows it must be Hux, because there’s THAT smell, of chilblain-leaf and blood and malt and smoke…)“Kylo. Are you – inebriated?”

“No.” the knight mumbles, stretching, curling Sulla closer. The child squirms and blinks huge amber eyes awake, sniffs the air delicately.

“Dadda smewwy, poo poo!” he concludes, aghast. Hux smirks and plucks their son from the cage of Ren’s arms “I quite agree, poppet. Shame on Da-” 

“Mama smewwy poo poo, too!” Sulla admonishes, keenly, poking at his Mother’s lips. The Admiral roars with laughter and Kylo smirks. Hux should know better than to think that their beady-eyed son would miss his wayward drinking habits. 

“Relax, Armie. We can all watch the bastards.” Sloane dismisses, eagerly amusing Helios with a brightly coloured shape puzzle on the recliner. 

Sulla’s ears inevitably prick-up “Whassa bassad?”

The Marshall snorts “Absolutely nothing of interest to you, Sully, my love. Where are your slippers?”

The child wiggled his bare feet, before jabbing an accusatory finger at his brother and bossing “Ewio! Gemme sippers!”

Obligingly, Helios went to wiggle from the recliner, but was deftly caught by a disapproving Sloane. Armitage concurred, setting Sulla down on ever steadier feet “No, don’t boss your brother around. Do it yourself.”

The child stomped his little foot, but ultimately gave in and pattered off through the connecting door to the playroom, where his slippers lay discarded in an enormous mound of toys. The knight kept a vague monitor of his son’s antics, Sulla’s presence a singing limb in the lit blend of his family in the Living Force. 

Sloane sipped her third whiskey and jerked her head at the retreating boy “That one the eldest?”

Hux returned to the recliner and Helios eagerly abandoned his play to clamber back into his Mother’s arms “Technically. Sulla was lifted out first, Kylo tells me.”

The Supreme Leader snorted, sitting up: stretching hugely, his bones clicking and muscles roiling like serpents. 

This was true. He swallowed a shudder as he recalled that moment. Armitage, gutted like a fish, laying limp and white on his side, eyes hollow. Two enormous red slits in his back, splicing either side of his spine. A tiny, sodden, scarlet screaming creature being lifted gently from the folds of flesh-

“…Dadda kay…?” Helios was saying, somewhere nearby. The knight inhaled as though surfacing from an icy lake, throat coated in acid. He blinked. Hux was frowning at him.

“You should freshen up. Go get some water.” He murmured, eyes gleaming, brow furrowed. It was the Marshall’s form of expressing concern: bossing Ren about. 

The knight nodded, shortly. Rose with a long exhale and slunk over to the adjoining refresher: the villa was ancient and had traditional water-taps and hydro-pumps, but the Marshall had had modern refresher units installed, too. All the latest sonic technology. It gleamed together in strange mesh of smooth pale yellow metal piping and humming chrome units.

Sulla, returning from his slipper recovery mission, took his Father’s right thumb and swung from it, following him into the refresher. 

In the living suite, Helios was amusing himself by levitating a very wobbly blue circle from his shape puzzle set. Ren knew, because he could feel the ripples within the Force, laced with his son’s signature. The Admiral was commenting, bluntly “…so. Only one kid is magicked, hm?”

“That’s right.” Armitage replied, stiffly, pondering. It had always bothered him, this disparity. It bothered Kylo, too. 

He threw a palmful of cold water into his face: it tasted faintly of salt crystals and brine. 

“Does the little Emperor know?”

The knight flinched. Lifted an oblivious Sulla into his arms and covered his ears, humbled in the semi-dark. His son yawned, kicking his slippered feet against the Supreme Leader’s belly, pushing his cold nose against Kylo’s neck.

The Marshall finally replied “He’s noticed that he can’t do the things that Helios does, but he doesn’t understand why. And he’s not old enough for us to explain it.” Ren felt the ripple of Hux’ smile permeate the Force: knew that the child in his arms didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t ever know what that FELT like “He’s determined to beat him at everything else. He talked first, walked first…”

Kylo soothed his palm up and down his child’s thrumming back, and wondered…was that why? Why Sulla strived and worked and exhausted himself at being first, in everything? Because he had somehow sensed that – he couldn’t EVER do what his brother could, not fully?

The Admiral let the clearly sensitive matter drop, and changed the subject “So how long are you gonna hide them away here, then? Galaxy isn’t gonna conquer itself, you know.”

The Marshall’s aura loosened, settling into the comfort of business, and strategy “That’s partly why I wanted you back, Admiral. There are very few officers I can trust to oversee proceedings.”

The Supreme Leader returned to the living suite, feeling hollow, stung and faintly ill. For the first time, Sulla felt heavy in his arms, too warm against his neck. He waved his hand, and Helios’ hovering sphere abruptly fell to the recliner with a soft whump. He squeaked, indignantly. Hux shot him a questioning look. 

Kylo ignored him. His throat hurt. 

“Always did tell you I’d never retire.” The Admiral was saying, nodding acutely “I’m in. How can I refuse? Always wanted to rule the galaxy.”

“Don’t we all?” Hux replied, and their glasses clinked together jovially. Helios ignored them, sat staring at his Father and brother, head cocked, like an alerted animal. He promptly wiggled off the recliner and padded over, clambering onto Kylo’s chest, distressed.

The knight exhaled, shivering gently, and gathered them both close. Murmured into his sensitive son’s hair “Sorry, baby.”

Helios stared at him with depthless eyes, then leaned up to kiss him soundly and wetly on the chin. Ren felt an illicit smile creep in his cheeks. Forgiven, then. 

“You should stay. A few cycles.” He said, sharply, startling Hux and Sloane from their merriment. 

The Admiral tossed him a calculating look, before smirking gently “No, I’ve got work to do, it seems.” She winked, crudely “But I’ll be back. Don’t you fret about that, your Supreme Silkiness.”

No. No, that won’t do. 

“You must stay tomorrow night.” The Supreme Leader commanded, insistently “I need to take Armitage to see his doctor.”

An uncomfortable silence descended. The twins squirmed together, watching eachother’s faces curiously, as their Mother shot the knight an affronted look. Ren did not meet his eye. It was the perfect truth, and the Marshall knew it. Doctor Lisse had arrived in the city two cycles ago: she wouldn’t wait forever.

It had been ten tetra-cycles. It was time. They’d agreed on this. 

“You don’t NEED to TAKE me anywhere, Ren.” Armitage snorted, rolling his left shoulder in his universal tic denoting unease “I’m perfectly capable of taking myself.”

Kylo couldn’t help the heated smirk that curled his lips “That, I do know.”

Hux went scarlet, and Sloane howled with mirth “FILTH AND SCANDAL, SIR! Don’t be a priss, Armie. Let your noble knight escort you on your way. It’ll do you good to get out of this place.”

Kylo felt, rather than saw the gathering stormclouds above his fiance’s skull, weaving and unfurling threateningly “I’m not leaving my children.”

His tone was brittle and cold. The knight frowned “Armitage-“

“I am NOT.” The words struck the air like a blaster bolt “Leaving my children.”

The Supreme Leader scowled: Hux still forgot himself, sometimes, forgot the complexity of their dynamic. Partners in home, yes. Not so in leadership “Where will they be safest?! Here, fortified and protected by your – Admiral” Sloane frowned, eying her ward closely “Or roaming the streets of the capital city in the middle of the night?”

They’d discussed this. That they would go at night, when the streets were empty, and they could slip quietly by. Armitage had agreed that would be best. Better than the pomp and fanfare of an armed guard. 

“They’ll be with us.” The Marshall sniped back, stubbornly, tender fingers balling into fists. He wasn’t rational. But then, he never was, about the boys. 

“I can’t protect all of you at once, out in the open.” Ren snapped, brutally. 

It was only the truth. He had meditated upon it: raged about it. Amassed a vast collection of scenarios. He wasn’t ready. Hux in danger turned his muscles to stone and his blood to acid: the children, in pain, left him feeling like death incarnate. All at once?

He would lose control. He knew this. He would become unleashed, unhinged. Uncontrolled, he could peel the skin from a man’s face. Without thought, without pity. All of that power…

Not around his family. Not around his children. Not yet. 

The Marshall surged to his feet, protesting “You don’t need to protect m-“

“Don’t be STUPID, Hux.” The knight rumbled, thunderous, the glass liquor cabinet panes shaking in their frames. 

Helios began sniffling, softly. Kylo stroked his hair and rocked him, soothing. Sulla, tiring of all the fuss, was dozing. 

“He’s right, kid.” The Admiral said, cuttingly, and the knight stared, struck with surprise “How are either of you supposed to concentrate on cutting some bantha-scum’s guts open if you’re juggling a baby? Ain’t gonna fly.”

Infuriated, the Marshall marched over to Ren, snatched his children, and stormed off towards their bedroom, coattails swirling. 

Sloane exhaled, nostril’s flaring wildly “He’ll change his mind.”

“I know.” The knight murmured, watching the gaping, empty yawn of the open doorway. 

“No harm will come to them, with me.”

Ren dragged himself to his feet, and swept out towards the lake, to meditate “I know.”

He stood, bare from his knees to his toes, in the frigid water: listened to the lake, the planet, the skies, the stars, the planets. The Force was like water, ever shifting, ever changing. Never smooth, never clear. One could never oneself clearly in it. Never. 

When he came to, it was opaque and dark about him. Cold and still. Every breath burned like blunted ice in his lungs, his breath a plume of smoke. He turned, waded back to the silent villa. Or: not so silent. Two figures stood, smoking idly, on the balcony. 

“I can’t do it, Rae. I can’t let them go-“

Armitage sounded like a boy. THE boy, Armie. The boy who Sloane had known. 

“You must. If not now, when? You’ll come right back.”

The Marshall chewed on his lower lip in a forgotten expression of nerves “It’s too soon.”

“No it isn’t.” the Admiral replied, firmly “What kind of parent do your brats deserve – a man who does what he must and what’s best by them, or a coward who shies away from the world?”

Ren saw his betrothed’ shoulders cave around his ribs in a woeful slump of defeat “That’s low.”

“I’m right.” Sloane said, shortly, taking a long, slow drag of her cigarro. 

“I know.” Hux conceded, voice tripping and croaking like a squashed rodent “I hate this. I wish-“ he exhaled, shakily “I just. I wish.”

Kylo stood, stock still, frozen, directly beneath them. 

“Do you really? Hate this?” the Admiral probed, stern and sober “Moreover, did you CHOOSE this, Armitage?”

She did not truly think him captive. Or she would have arrived with a fleet: Ren knew this. But still. The question cut him. 

“…not at first. But he didn’t – force me. I could’ve – taken drastic action, if necessary.” Armitage pondered, tapping his cigarro against the coarse stone of the balcony edge. A tiny shower of ash wafted, lazily, on the air, down to coat Ren’s hair "I won't pretend it wasn't somewhat of a... dire situation. But, no. I chose him." 

Slone punched him roughly in the shoulder, sharp eyes on the horizon "I know. I knew you'd rather slit your throat than marry a man you don't want. Just needed to hear it."

Some strange inkling told the Supreme Leader’s petrified body, that she KNEW he was there. 

"Do you love him?" she said, voice clear as a bell, exhaling a swirl of acrid fumes into the cool air. 

The Marshall’s heart rang heavy and hard as he replied "As much as I could anyone. But he's the same."

The woman snorted, derisively, and stabbed her cigarro out on the balcony rail "You two are a match made in Hell. Literally." Her lips curled, cruelly "So. How is he in bed?"

"ADMIRAL." Armitage admonished, with faux alarm, colouring "... good. Very good."

The knight’s fingers twitched: the spell lifted by the sharp spike of smugness kindling in his belly and curdling there like a flame. 

“Thank kark. You needed a good fucking. Loosened you up.” Sloane muttered, before poking her ward sharply in his bony side “Off to bed, now. Go.”

The Marshall’s protests fell from defeated lips: he was exhausted. Ren could feel the weight of it from here. He scrubbed at his own, dank cheeks, shivering for the first time at the bone-deep chill that had settled in his body. 

“…you too, your Majesty.” The Admiral called, sharply, down to him. 

As the Supreme Leader alighted the steps to his home, he was smiling.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In which Kylo is a biker dude and Hux is the worst damsel ever.

Armitage either couldn’t, or wouldn’t, eat all the next cycle.

Sloane had tried everything: bribery, threats. But the Marshall only shook his head, lips pursed in a bloodless line, and pushed the ceramic plates away. The Supreme Leader didn’t bother. He could smell the nausea wafting from his fiancé like cloying, acidic grease. He was filled with dread.

Kylo was thankful the man hadn’t outright refused to go, yet.

It was imperative he went. Though he sensed no infection, no lingering sickness from the man, he knew there was much sickening in his mind if not in his body. And sithspit knew, Ren was no qualified medic. He was born to rend and tear life down, not preserve it. His healing arts were atrocious, always had been. 

Hux grew more and more agitated as the evening crept in and dark descended again, casting inky hollows in the crevices of the villa. Sulla had been quiet and moody all day, perceiving trouble in his parent’s silence. Helios, in contrast, had done nothing but grizzle, sickening in sympathy with his Mother’s plight. 

Enough.

The knight stormed into his fiancé’s study at ten rotations past midday. Only two until midnight left, and still Hux sat, sequestered amongst his work and keeping the twins up well past their bedtime. Helios was sat prodding listlessly at a datapad on the workspace, head dipping, and Sulla was playing on the floor with some small, grey sphere that beeped at him when he pressed certain buttons.

“Time for bed.” Kylo commanded, brooking no argument. 

Armitage’ head snapped up, his eyes hollow, deep purple bruises staining the smooth skin beneath them “No it ISN’T. A little while longer.”

The Supreme Leader inhaled: braced himself for the inevitable feedback this would yield “Armitage. You’re hurting them.” Then, in for the kill “It’s selfish.”

The Marshall said absolutely nothing. He wouldn’t look up.

Ren flexed his fingers. Swept forward and retrieved the sleepy, soft forms of their children, and carried them to their bedroom. The Admiral was already there, familiarising herself with the layout of the villa: entrances, exits. Her mind was alight with calculation. 

“That door,” the knight instructed, pointing to a concealed panel “Leads to a set of steps that go down to the saferoom. It’s impregnable once closed to all but myself, and Armitage.”

Sloane snorted “Melodramatic, but sensible. But that’s you two all over.” She smoothed the blankets carefully over Helios’ belly as the child whined, wanting Bok the Ewok. 

The Admiral was dressed for guard duty. Beneath the swirl of her clothes she was dressed in snugly-fitting panelled armour, razor-thin, but immensely tough. Blaster, vibroblade and stun grenades were closeted in the folds of her tunic. But to the casual eye, she appeared in sleep-fatigues and soft boots. 

They both looked up as the Marshall appeared in the doorway, fingers clutching the frame as though the entire villa was a listing vessel. He looks positively green. 

“The. You’re familiar with the defensive systems?” he snapped, cuttingly, in Sloane’s direction. 

She swept swiftly over to him and cuffed him hard behind the ear “Don’t you take your anxieties out on me, boy!”

He stared at her helplessly, eyes a diluted, pale pustule-green yellow. The Admiral sighed, wrinkled cheeks smoothing as she patted the livid red impression of her hand on his skin gently “They’ll be absolutely fine, kid. Stop. The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back.”

Hux took her gnarled hands and squeezed, painfully “You’ll message me every rotation?”

She shook her head, firmly “I’ll message you IF there’s a problem, Armie. Now. Say your goodbye. DON’T fuss about it: you’ll scare them.”

The twins always slept in the same cot. Helios in particular would howl, otherwise, having inherited his Mother’s significant separation anxieties. They were curled placidly around one another, Helios sprawling comfortably like a star, Sulla neatly folded in his blankets. They blinked sleepily at their Mother as he kissed them, feverishly, goodnight, clutching at their hair gently.

Sloane eventually took him firmly by the shoulder, and marched him from the room “Shoo, now. Go. Come back quickly.”

They were silent as they dressed, quickly and efficiently, in plain Nabooan fatigues. 

The people of the planet were traditionally elaborate, by nature, even those of the lower classes, and so there was still some brocade and intricate stitching on the tunics, leggings and cloaks they tugged their bodies into. Hux’ were a subtle blend of deep green, brown and grey, and Ren’s, naturally, black leathers with a dark blue hood. 

Kylo was primarily concerned with shielding Armitage’ infamous hair. There weren’t too many six metric tall humanoids with firebrand fringe-cuts roaming Naboo, at present. 

The Marshall followed him down the steps to where the hover-bike was waiting as though he was attending his own funeral. He kept craning his neck, glancing back at the villa: his muscles were squeezing so tightly about his bones, that it pained him. Ren winced, and growled, snatching his fiancé’s wrists “Hux. Come. Now.” 

Did he think that Kylo, too, wasn’t devastated to leave them? Even for a moment?

The knight hunkered down by the modified speeder (he’d worked on it himself: it ran as silently as a Hothian Snow Vole) and gave it a last once-over. Not tampered with. The engine glistened in the starlight.

He stood, knees clicking dully. The Marshall was still staring, transfixed, at the low glimmer of light in the nursery window.

Kylo caught his chin between thumb and forefinger, forceful but not unkind, and dragged his attention back “Look at me.” He growled, with low promise “It’ll be fine.”

Hux seemed to return to himself with a sharp jolt: dulled eyes clearing, he nipped at Ren’s retreating fingers as he let go, replying hoarsely “It had better be.”

The Supreme Leader swung a thick thigh over the smooth seat of the hover-bike and curled his gloved fingers around the controls with a squeeze and squeak of leather. His lips twitched, heart soaring. Piloting was one passion he’d never begrudged Solo for gifting him. He could really use this. 

Armitage cocked the eyebrow and eyed the space directly behind the knight, witheringly “…you CANNOT be serious.”

“It’s faster than a speeder. Unless you’d prefer to delay?” Kylo rebutted, coldly. Hux’ neck flushed deeply scarlet, and he slid the thin line of his leg over the seat, gingerly. Shuffled flush, chest to the knight’s back, and curled his arms a little too tightly around his fiancé’s waist. His pale fingers met and laced, knuckles whitening.

“Hurry, please.” He murmured, lips a hot brand against the back of Ren’s bare neck. The Supreme Leader shuddered, deeply. Kicked the bike to quiet, strumming life.

They shot through the still night like a blade through bantha-butter. The surface the lake streamed below and around them, passing like the streaks of hyperdrive, salt-spray assaulting their ears and noses and mouths. Armitage winced and pushed his face hard between the knight’s shoulder blades. Kylo allowed his mind, blessedly, to focus only upon the task at hand.

He could feel Hux. All of him.

The quiet bounce of his bony knees, the jut of his pelvis against Ren’s back. The soft push of his groin against Kylo’s arse and the slight tuck of his ribs. His nose, cool and slightly wet against the Supreme Leader’s shoulder. The squeeze of his delicate but strong arms, pushing against the muscles of Ren’s torso. It felt…close. Somehow. As close as they’d ever been. 

He felt it keenly when Armitage dropped, finally, like a stone through wet paper, to sleep. 

The Supreme Leader inhaled deeply, tucked Hux’ loosening grip tighter to his belly, piloting one handed. It was a shame the man wasn’t awake to admire this. But then, he hadn’t slept in around two cycles. The Marshall’s boneless body was warm against him and his growing hair flitted against Ren’s ear. 

It was a rare, strange moment of peace.

Upon reaching the canals on the outskirts of the city, the knight drew them to a gentle halt beside a docking crevice, and powered the motor down. He had intended to carry Hux through the streets: let him rest, but the gentle jolt and the sudden cease of noise wrenched the man rudely from sleep. He moaned, lowly, scrubbed at his damp cheeks “…’re here…?”

The knight nodded. Dismounted and extended a hand to grab Armitage’ pale one as he stumbled, blearily, onto the dock. 

“It’s not far.” Ren assured, in a low mumble laced just a little with Force suggestion. Hux nodded, squeezed the Supreme Leader’s fingers tightly. Kylo’s lips twitched.

He led them swiftly and silently through the backstreets, utilising the faint pulse of Doctor Lisse’s presence as a homing beacon. The medi-centre they’d occupied for the past seven cycles was just outside the central Palace district, tucked behind the Central Biblio. It was mostly deserted. The occasional domestic pet barked and squeaked and hissed, and there was the patter of rare feet.

The light and sound and smells increased as they pressed deeper and deeper into the town. The sizzle, curl and tang of some late-night meat stall, serving weary revellers. The streets were lined with brightly petalled peking-blossom trees, which shed at the lightest touch. The paving was coated in them like confetti.

Pfffffft…BAM!

Ren snarled. His heart squeezed. He’d shoved Hux hard into a nearby doorway before he could THINK, arm braced like a metal strut across the man’s chest. Blood roared in his ears, his eyes, senses, leapt, wildly, like a bolt of electricity. Where-!!

Beside his ear, Armitage huffed hotly and murmured, amused “Fireworks, Kylo. It’s only fireworks.”

High above them, the last careen of sparks withered and died, ash falling serenely, down. The knight scowled, muscles tight with adrenaline. Went to push himself off the wall, stung, but the Marshall snatched his wrist, tugged him back. 

“Just a moment.” He said, eyes overbright. Armitage curled clammy fingers around the knight’s neck, snarling in the hair at the nape. Yanked him down. 

Hux dragged his teeth against Kylo’s plush lips, tearing, then sucked the lower curl into his mouth. Pressed up against him, a slim thigh pushing between the knight’s spread ones. Ren’s cock jumped, eagerly. He made a low, hungry noise that reverberated in the Marshall’s skull, and pressed greedily back: cupped Hux’ jaw and tipped his head back the way he liked it. 

They only had a moment. But they stole it. They were thieves. They took anything and everything they could. 

After a tiny eternity, the Marshall pulled back, their lips making a disgusting, delicious wet sound, and wiped his mouth, lips curling tiredly “I just wanted to pretend, for a tic. That we’re nobody important.” He wrinkled his nose “It felt terrible.”

The Supreme Leader shook with soft anticipation, cock hard and heavy, straining against his tight leathers. He butted Hux’ forehead with harsh gentleness, flashing teeth “Were we not on a schedule, I’d fuck you right here.”

Armitage barked out one his rare laughs, leaned in for a brief, fierce press of lips “Sordid back-alley sex…? It can be arranged. Filthy boy.” He shoved at the knight’s chest, laced their fingers with practised ease “Well? Lead on.”

Ren sulked, thwarted. But his head and heart felt clean and clear, for the first time in forever.


	13. Chapter 13

All medi-bays looked exactly the karking same.

Gleaming, blinding white. Smooth chrome. The rattle of metal and the condescending, rhythmic beeping. The stench of chemicals lacing the air. Floors and walls buzzing as though carpeted in a swarm of insects. Ren loathed them. Hux did, too.

Especially given their last two encounters.

They stood together in the centre of the semi-lit room, silent and still as sentinels. The building had been cleared exclusively during nights for their use. The echo of the daytime patients, their groans and coughs and wheezes, irritated the knight, and the abandoned beds and chairs were eerie. 

“Marshall. Still alive, I see.” 

Doctor Lisse strode into the room, snapping a businesslike ‘lights, 80%’ and beckoning her entourage of droids to follow. Beside him, Armitage glowered. He loathed the woman: needed her. He itched, he burned, all over. Kylo laid a broad palm against the back of the man’s neck, and squeezed. 

The Marshall snorted, folded his arms tightly against his thin chest “Only to spite you, sweet doctor.”

“Enough flattery. Get on the bench.” Lisse intoned, sternly, slamming the heel of her palm against an archaic button which fired the scanning machine to life “We’ll begin with scans and fluids. Arm, please.”

Armitage wordlessly slid his cloak from his shoulders and rolled up his sleeves. The knight eyed the intimate paleness of his fiancé’s inner wrists: wanted to bite them. Or at least cover them again. The doctor’s nails against the fair skin made him faintly sick with anger.

The machines roared to life. Hux swallowed a flinch. The knight pressed a palm over the man’s eyes, felt the flutter of lashes against the coarse calluses on the surface of his skin. Armitage relaxed, a little. 

A translucent replica of the Marshall materialised, slowly, hovering a few clics above him. Every crook of his bone and lick of his blood was visible, pulsating gently. 

“Glucate 0.03%. BAL 6% per ticinel. Sucrose: low.” The medi-droid stated, cool and soothing. Ren resisted the urge to tear its head off. 

“You experienced aches and pains for some cycles after the birth, I trust. Have they gone now?” the harpy demanded, consulting the myriad of symbols thrumming across her datapad. 

Hux shifted, back aching, and nodded shortly “Yes. It still feels somewhat stiff, sometimes.”

It pained him: but less so, now. The Supreme Leader still liked to attend to him with his fingers. Liked the plush tremble of flesh and pull of easing muscles. Liked, in some morbid way, to trace the fine lines of scarring flanking Armitage’ spine. Evidence of their coupling, evidence of his infiltration of Hux. Like war memorials. His children, his precious invasions. 

That he put something in Hux, then tore it out. 

“To be expected.” The doctor affirmed, gesturing for Armitage to lift his shirt and turn onto his side. Ren caught his wrist, pressed his thumb against the Marshall’s pulse as Lisse probed the man’s back, frowning “Well. The incisions have healed very well. Minimal scar tissue, externally at least.” 

She straightened up, back clicking “The inside is somewhat of a different story.”

Kylo’s vision went briefly red, then white. It faded. His heart squeezed.

“Am I whole?” Hux demanded, resigned and straight to the point “Functional?”

“It’s complicated.” Lisse replied, soothing bacta-gel across her hands “Your reproductive organs are repaired. The clamp-sutures remain, holding well.” 

The Supreme Leader frowned. 

He’d clean forgotten the clamp – installed as part of the surgery to help Hux heal, but having the added benefit of blocking the passage to his womb. A surefire contraceptive, the doctor had said, eying the knight with distaste.

“But the womb is malformed. Scarring.” The harpy was saying, delivering this potentially devastating news with factual disdain. 

Hux swallowed. The knight watched the bob of his throat intently, incapable of thought “Are you saying I can’t…”

Strange. Just over a rotation ago, they hadn’t even known that Armitage COULD. And now-

“No. Not necessarily. Theoretically, you can. But I’d imagine it would be very difficult. And exceedingly dangerous. Even moreso than before.” 

The Supreme Leader consulted his fiancé’s thoughts. Hux’ head was bowed. He was trying, desperately, to think: the gears ground, energy grew, but nothing sparked. Nothing coherent coalesced. 

“Do you want more children?”Lisse said, cuttingly. She glanced at the chrono device on her wrist. Ren wished he could cave her skull in. 

Armitage sat up, rubbing at his temples with smooth thumbs “I hadn’t thought deeply upon it.” He winced. Reached, unthinkingly, for Kylo’s bicep and dragging him nearer “Not more SURPRISES. Certainly not.”

“I do.” The Supreme Leader decreed, cupping Armitage’ elbow with firm care “Two more. At least.”

The Marshall’s head snapped up. He searched Ren’s eyes, seeking an answer he already had. The knight didn’t falter. Soft, blue light pulsate behind Hux’ head, casting ghostlike shadows beneath his cheeks. 

“I would like to preserve the option.” Hux conceded, after a long stretch of wrestling with himself “If it’s not detrimental to my health.”

The doctor nodded “In that case, I’d propose a further operation. Perhaps a full rotation from now, when you’ll be fully healed. We should remove the scar tissue.” She tapped her datapad a few times, turned it: pointed a long, finely pointed nail to a bundle of mismatched flesh in Armitage’ virtual abdomen “That would increase your chances a hundred fold. I can also prescribe a course of supplements to promote regrowth.”

Hux sat up, swinging his pale ankles over the width of the bench. They dangled, lame and vulnerable, in mid air “Yes. Do it.”

The Marshall tugged his tunic back down over his bare belly and back. Ren retrieved his dropped cloak from the floor, sweeping about his fiancé’s shoulders. Watching it settle like mist. 

“How are you mentally, Marshall?” Lisse enquired, as she began to pack her torture kit away. 

“Fine.” Armitage snapped, very quickly. 

“Terrible.” The knight corrected, tone low, scowling fiercely at Hux “He doesn’t sleep well. Not that he did before. Doesn’t eat properly. Can’t be separated from the boys for a moment, and has massively increased anxiety.”

The Marshall jabbed an open palm hard against Ren’s belly, nails clutching and digging in. His lips peeled back in a zealous snarl. Kylo caught his fingers and laced them with his, ignoring his ire. Refusing to rise to it. Incredible, what his children had done for his patience.

“Traitor.” Hux muttered, ruefully, shoulders slumping. He pushed his temple hard against the knight’s ribs. Ren settled a leaden arm across his fiancé’s shoulders. 

The doctor continued to tap-tip-tap on her datapad, taking notes “…do you have periods of low mood? Sensations of helplessness? Despair? A desire to hide? Trust issues? Paranoia?”

Armitage, stubbornly, didn’t answer. But then, he didn’t particularly need to. 

Lisse smoothed an invisible crease from her chemise and coat, brow furrowed severely “You must see a mind-medic. I can recommend several.” Her lips quirked with scorn “Though they’re yet to find a cure for maniacal despotism.”

Armitage snapped like an Arlesian alligator “I don’t want-“

“You don’t have a choice.” The Supreme Leader said, shortly “The boys need their Mother.”

Hux’ jaw snapped shut and he shoved Ren, hard “Sane? Is that it?!”

“Better.” Kylo amended, pushing his fingertips against the gossamer strands of militant-short hair beside Hux’ ear. The man blinked, wavering. Faltering, always, at the mention of their sons. 

The Marshall relented, eventually. He was beginning to resist the knight’s word less and less: this was good “For Sulla and Helios, I will consider it.”

The doctor snapped her case shut with lurid finality, powering down the BOD-I scanner with a flick of her thumb “As discussed, I’ll conduct a full examination of les enfants tomorrow, at your residence.”

The Supreme Leader made a noise of assent. He didn’t like the idea of this shrill woman handling his sons, but, they had to be checked professionally. He wouldn’t neglect their health, no matter how jealous he felt. 

The Arkanesian medic’s footsteps echoed sonorously as she retreated, her long coat sweeping the floor. 

Ren busies himself with the many catches and clutches that made up the Marshall’s tunic and jacket, then tugged his hood up, obscuring his eyes. Hux grumbled at him to stop fussing, but didn’t truly mind. 

“You said before that you wanted it removed.” Kylo said, stiffly, the words falling from his lips in an awkward, gruff tumble.

He remembered it vividly: in the first few cycles after waking from his surgery, Armitage had been in pure agony. The terror of his near-death and his obsession with the babies had driven him to the edge of insanity, and he’d spoken often of cutting his womb from him. Removing every remnant of his High Arkanesian abilities. 

At the time, Kylo hadn’t argued. But watched him, closely. Just in case. 

“Things change.” Hux murmured, hopping neatly from the bench with a tired exhale. 

“What changed?” the knight enquired, tugging the Marshall’s wrist, leading them towards the nearest exit. 

As they stepped into the crisp night, a shrill torrent of loud BE-BE-BEEP noises split the air. The knight jumped, fingers flying to the sabre at his belt. The alarm was coming from the communicator strapped to Hux’ inner wrist, but it sounded – strange. Like no notification Kylo had heard before. 

The Marshall was utterly still. His heart fluttered like an insect’s. Blood drained from his face and congealed in his neck. 

“…what’s that?” the knight demanded, taking Hux’ shoulder and shaking it, once, brutally “Armitage?”

His fiancé’s head snapped up, and it was a façade of sheer, unadulterated terror “It’s the alarm. For the villa’s defences.”

Everything stopped.

Then Armitage had GONE. Was running, faster than Ren had ever known the man could, wildly in the vague direction from which they’d come. The knight snarled, focussed on the flash of Hux’ retreating heels, squeezed his muscles and then burst after him. 

He caught him swiftly: snatched him by the waist and dragged him back on course, towards the hover-bike “This way. MOVE.”

The Marshall had long legs. He used them, but he wasn’t practised at exercising. Soon, Ren could feel secondhand the clamour of acid in the man’s lungs, the raw scream in his throat. But he pushed himself, on. As they rounded the sixth corner, he skidded, tripped over his own boots. 

Kylo kicked Hux’ feet out from under him, snatched him as he fell, and threw him unceremoniously over his shoulder.

It was testament to his crushing panic that the Marshall didn’t waste so much of a breath on protesting. Instead, he fisted his nails into the give of Ren’s back, shuddering. His feedback was overwhelming. It crashed into Kylo’s and tore at it like a vengeful beast. 

The knight skidded to a halt beside their bike, dumping Armitage abruptly in front of the controls, kicking the engine into gear as he leapt on behind him. He wrenched his fiancé against his chest and braced him tightly, twisting the controls with his free hand. The machine screamed to life, shuddered, and they dropped, abruptly, into the water and away.

It was silent. It was carnage. The world screeched and screamed and battered them. It began to rain. Thick, driving curtains, lashing at their skin. Within moments, they were soaked.

The Supreme Leader dug his chin into Armitage’ shoulder, clutched him tighter. He wished he could bury Hux between his ribs and never release him. 

“Can you feel them?” the Marshall croaked, wincing and turning away from the wind “Ren?!”

The knight gritted his teeth “They aren’t dead.” Ground out “I’m concentrating on increasing our speed. Can’t – can’t reach out, too.”

Armitage choked softly, clapped a palm to his mouth. Notdeadnotdeadnotdead, ohGodsandHells. Kylo hoped that if he vomited, he’d think to turn his head. 

He crashed the bike. 

Could barely summon the presence of mind to grab Hux and throw them both from the seat, tumbling hard onto the slippery, drenched dock. Ren rolled, dragging the Marshall with him, bowing his body around the other man as the metal carapace slammed into the villa wall and burst into livid flames. 

Armitage coughed, scrambled to his feet, heels squeaking on the damp wood. The rain was cascading down the villa steps, creating a veritable waterfall. The Supreme Leader dragged himself upright, caught Hux’ elbow. They each pushed against the walls of the stairway, levering upwards, going fast, going FASTER-

Ren skidded onto the veranda. He listened. All he could hear was the pound of rain, the harsh rattle of Hux’ breath near his ear. The Marshall tripped again, shaking, his knee slamming into the dark, shining stones. He pressed a palm to it, pushing up.

His fingers came away red.

Blood. There was blood, red blood. Fat, cooling globules of it, drooling across the paving. Thinning as it curled amongst the rainwater.

Hux made a noise like an ANIMAL. Somewhere between a cry and a gargle. Ren seized his wrists “It’s not theirs.” Shook him, his heart in his mouth “ARMITAGE. It’s not theirs!”

He would know. He KNEW. It wasn’t the boys’ blood, it didn’t smell like them. Not Sulla’s citric bite nor Helios’ sweet lick. 

“No.” the Marshall whimpered, eyes huge and pale “No, no, no. Sithspitting HELLS- RAE?!” he cupped shaking hands to his mouth and roared “RAE!!!”

“SULLA!” Ren barked, joining him, expanding his bond with the living Force, seeking, desperately, but there were so very MANY trails of them he had no clue which was the most recent “Elio?!”

Somewhere deep in the bowels of the villa, a child screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: OH LOOK A CLIFFHANGER *FLEES*


	14. Chapter 14

Crimson. Crimson, and white. That was all he could see. 

The sound cut the Supreme Leader to the core.

He didn’t think: raised his hands and took hold of the very stones of the villa, shaking them, searching, DESPERATELY searching. He could feel them, he could feel the hot flush of Elio’s powers, pulsating weakly, feel Sulla’s terror splice the air-

“SULLA!” Armitage screeched, inhuman, turning wildly on his heel. It was Sulla who’d screamed. Ren didn’t know how Hux knew, but he knew.

“STOP.”

A coarse voice cut through the chaos, regimented, clipped, exhausted. Their son’s strangled wailing continued to reverberate throughout the building like a thousand blaring sirens. 

Rae Sloane stood bracing herself against the frame of one of the inner doors, tunic spattered with the cloy of blood and the slide of spittle, the tang of metal souring the air like a disease “Keep your panties on! I took care of it. They’re FINE.”

There was a still, perfect moment of shock. Rain pounded against the tiles on the roof, great, fat slapping noises like an assault. 

The Marshall strode over to the Admiral in two short strides and took her shoulders, cheeks bloodless, eyes wild “The boys. Where. NOW.”

The woman pushed a sweaty, gnarled wrist against her temple, smearing crimson, and jerked her head over her shoulder “Saferoom, of course.” 

Hux spared her a cursory glance to ensure she wasn’t critically injured (Ren sensed nothing more than superficial bruising and a glancing blaster-bolt burn) before ducking wordlessly around the Admiral into the gaping gloom beyond. 

The knight nodded at her shortly, bit out a rough, wretched “Thank you.” And followed. 

The saferoom was dim, but lit cosily. It contrasted terribly to the crush of broken wood and shattered plastic that littered the floor like strange confetti. In the centre of the room the twins cot-pen sat forlornly broken, with buckled sides. Armitage was already reaching over the barricade to retrieve their still SCREECHING son, murmuring feverish endearments.

“Babies…babies, don’t cry. I’m SO sorry. Little love mine, I’m sorry. Shhh.” The Marshall croaked, tucking their null son against his chest and neck and stroking his hair with tremulous fingers.

Sulla was utterly inconsolable.

His cheeks were ruddy with breathlessness and his eyes bloodshot and raw, his miniature fists flailing furiously. He gargled and choked, inhaled deep whooping breaths and then screamed anew, his mind a thoughtless mass of panic and terror and confusion and HURT.

Contrastingly, Helios sat curled, head drooping, in a limp little ball in the centre of the carnage. Ren swept him into his arms, unthinkingly. Elio, too, was shaking.

“Elio?” Kylo thumbed the boy’s cool cheek and jiggled him gently, curling him close, heart turning to stone “Are you alright?”

The boy’s eyes were transfixed on his brother’s howling little face. Hux hushed and rocked and paced with Sulla, but it did no good. He couldn’t climb down from his tantrum, engorged on his fear, caught in it. Helios’ lower lip wibbled. 

“B-bad , Dadda. BAD!” he exclaimed, face screwing up in a parody of his twin’s, eyes filling with tears at last. 

The child projected an impression of shadowy, creeping figures destroying the peace of the night, of Sulla whimpering, the sensation of being PRESSED from every side. 

Of tiny, starlike palms being thrown wide and the world EXPLODING.

Helios had never encountered true danger, before. It seemed the Force sent a tendril of sharp warning to the child’s young mind. Kylo could remember the sensation, vaguely, from when he was a child – it HURT. It was like a fat, incorporeal finger, prodding you in the head, setting your nerves aflame. 

Helios had reacted as any young, untrained Force sensitive would. Violently, and without control. 

It had scared his brother out of his wits. And now Elio’s little heart was breaking, with confusion, with the barely understood concept of guilt. 

The knight cupped his son’s shivering skull and slotted him flush against his Father’s shoulder, radiating as much comfort and calm and SAFETY as he could summon “Shhhhh. Daddy has you.”

“Bubba CWY.”Helios whimpered, clinging, trying and failing to wrap his tongue around his twin’s name “A-an’ Ewwo go, pew pew pew!”

Pew, pew, pew. He’d attacked.

The Supreme Leader swept over to his fiancé, brow furrowed “Armitage. I need Sulla a moment.”

The Marshall looked at him with sharp refusal, and Ren assuaged “Please. Helios thinks – his brother’s scared of him.”

Hux’ eyes widened with shock: then realisation. He pressed his mouth into a thin line, and gingerly tried to pry Sulla from his neck. The infant kicked his scrabbling feet and screamed louder, senseless, barely able to process who was holding him. His Mother’s scent was permeating his little brain, but it didn’t seem to be helping. 

“Sulla.” Ren said, firmly, with a low, sonorous rumble: the child hiccoughed harshly “Sulla, baby. Come here.” 

He lifted him easily with one hand, and settled the child against his brother, nestled between the crook of both his arms and his chest “Everything is alright.” 

His son tossed his head, shaking like a leaf, and blinked huge, bleary eyes as Helios’ clutching hands reached for him “Sulla is alright. Helios is alright. Daddy and Mummy are alright.” The knight assured, drawing them both closer to his chest.

Helios began babbling incoherent soothing things in their own twin-speak, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to his brothers nose and cheeks. Sulla whimpered, deflating a little as his twin’s arms twined around his neck. The child looked to his Father, chest hitching in a rapid-fire flutter. Kylo’s lips quirked, softly “See? Shhh, now.”

Beside him, Armitage drew in a deep, shuddering breath, shoulders slumping. He pressed his temple harshly to the knub of the knight’s shoulder, fingers sifting through their children’s disarray of scarlet hair “Helios did this?”

He gestured to the split and tear of furniture and furnishings about them. Ren nodded, shortly. 

“Is Sulla hurt?” Armitage demanded, tone soft for the boys. He peered closely at their null son, and Sulla sniffled wetly, reaching for him. Hux kisses the child’s forehead gently, stroked his cheek. 

The knight conducted a brief scan of his child “No.” Helios mimicked his Father, patting his twin’s chubby cheeks, checking him: Sulla wrinkled his nose, his trademark annoyance thankfully returning “I’m impressed he has even that level of control. Sully doesn’t know Elio did this. He just knows the world exploded.”

Sulla couldn’t understand the Force, yet. Couldn’t understand that his brother could do – incredible, dangerous things. 

“…my poor loves.” Armitage said, fiercely, frowning. Helios grizzled for his Mother and the Marshall took him, instantly. The infant slipped his thumb into his mouth and watched Sulla, tired now.

The Admiral returned, dressed in clean, simple clothes and wiping blood from her hands with a cantina rag. Ren turned to her, demanding “Admiral. What happened.”

Sloane rolled her shoulders, settling automatically into report-mode “It was quiet for awhile. Then this little thing woke up.” She gestured to Helios “Started jabbering, pointing out at the lake. Figured it was magical nonsense. But just in case, I tucked them away in the safe room.” She smirked, eyes crinkling, and ruffled the bemused child’s mop of hair “Good call, kid.”

Kylo blinked “He warned you?” 

The Admiral nodded. Ren shifted Sulla higher in his arms, and chucked his sensitive son beneath the chin “Elio. Look at me.” He said, emanating pride and sobriety “I’m very proud of you. For protecting your brother. Good boy.”

Helios squirmed, glowing a little at the praise. He shot his Father a shy, wobbly smile, before hiding his face in his Mother’s neck again, mumbling “M-Mummy…”

The Marshall grinned. It was the first word Helios had ever managed to master. 

“Two came.” Sloane continued, frowning “Seemingly unrelated, if you can believe that. One’s a pap. The other, Resistance. No uniform but I’m certain.”

The Supreme Leader stretched out his powers to survey the two lifeforms lying beaten and unconscious, locked in the cellar. Their feedback was void. They’d survive. 

“Resistance?” he growled, lowly, covering Sulla’s ears. The boy was still crying, terrible, exhausted gurgles. His forehead was hot. 

…Resistance. Did Organa send them?

“They’re both trussed up in the cellar, neat as a meat-parcel.” The Admiral said, dismissively “They’re going nowhere, believe me.” 

She toed a shred of lampshade aside and turned towards the door “The fire’s lit in the living suite: there’s blankets.” She patted Armitage firmly but gently as she passed his shoulder, eyes sharp but gentle “Strip, go sit down. You too, Lankypants. I’ll fetch tea.”

It was intolerably warm in the living suite, but perhaps that’s what was needed. 

The heat pressed stifling around them like a reassuring shield, allowing Hux and Ren to sit comfortably in nothing but undergarments and sleepwear. The fire roared and spat, as though incensed at the intrusion into their home. Helios stared sleepily into the flames, lulled by the crackle and pop. 

They sat in a circular nest of blankets and cushions on the floor: Ren leant against the press of the recliner and Armitage pressed against his side. Gradually, the chill bled from their bones and the collective trembling ceased.

Sulla, however, still couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stop crying. 

Hux shushed him and wheedled and stroked his hair, to no avail “Sulla, my love, it’s alright. Please, stop.” He exhaled, his bony chest caving in on itself “Kylo, what do we do? He won’t…” he trailed off, thoughtful “It’s like one of your tantrums.”

Ren knew.

His son was stuck in that place. Caged in an endless cycle of rage and fear that wouldn’t release him, but just kept spinning and spinning and snaring him tighter. The knight frowned “He doesn’t know how to calm down.”

He refused to use Force suggestion on his sons. They were so YOUNG. Who knew what effect it may have…?

That left him with only one option: his very last resort.

The Supreme Leader’s nostrils flared, and he hissed in Hux’ ear “You will never speak of this.”

The Marshall blinked “Speak of what?”

Ren stared into the flames, rocked his snivelling infant with care. And began, lowly and awkwardly, at first, to sing.

Ben Solo had had a talent for it. He would speak to himself often, for he was so often alone: hum, sometimes. Mimic the sounds around him to try to make sense of them. He had liked the patterns of songs. Words spun together by someone else for some elusive purpose, now turned to his own. 

Kylo Ren couldn’t remember the name of this song, but he thinks it may be a Corellian lullaby. He refuses to recall from where. Something about a baby bird…

Hux was staring openly at him. He could feel the sear of gaze, but the man said nothing. His feedback was calm and vacant, attentive. Helios was gazing at him, gormless and exhausted, eyes slipping closed. Sulla hiccoughed, his miniature fingers finding the tendrils of his Father’s soft hair, and tugging on them gently. He began, very slowly, to quieten. 

Eventually, the Supreme Leader ran out of words. So he hummed the melody, instead.

Armitage’ damp hair dripped sullenly onto the blanket wrapped about his shoulders. Helios began to snore, softly, blowing snot-filled bubbles. Sulla squeezed and released his fists, over and over, in his Father’s hair. His heartbeat began to reduce from a wild beat to a quiet flutter. Ren massaged the child’s round bowl of a chest with three firm fingers. 

Kylo felt the soft slide of oblivion in his son’s head when he, finally, cheeks crusty and face red, fell asleep. 

Hux slumped further against the knight’s collar, whispering “Thank the non-existent deities…” 

He looked up at Ren. His gaze burned. They were no longer afraid: they were ANGRY.

“We interrogate the scum tomorrow.” He hissed, with the promise of every imaginable Hell to pay lacing the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The lullaby is one that Han used to sing to baby Ben. You can hate me now.
> 
> PSA: I FOUND FOOTAGE OF ADAM SINGING IN ITALIAN OH MY GOD: bit.ly/2pfaH5f


	15. Chapter 15

The Supreme Leader was not a forgiving man.

He was merciless: but unlike his fiancé, he wasn’t particularly spiteful. To him, the enemy was to be eradicated. He liked his vengeance clean, overwhelming and inconsolable. Like the attempted destruction of Skywalker on Crait. Hellfire and death, pure eradication.

Hux, on the other hand, could hold a grudge longer than a Calamarian could hold its breath in icy water. Even after his victim was long dead.

And so, the Marshall and the Admiral had elected themselves chief interrogators of the prisoners lurking in the cellar. 

“Oh, believe me, sugar-tits. We don’t need you.” Sloane had said with a slow, cruel curl of the lips, when the knight had vehemently protested. 

He could pluck answers from these Heathens after only a MOMENT! Surely-

“We don’t need your clumsy Force fingers ruining them before we’ve had our fun.” Hux clarified, twirling his vibroblade between thumb and forefinger with startling, untold deftness. 

The Supreme Leader allowed it. 

In honesty? He wanted to be close to his children. It had been an assault to his pride, not Hux’, that Helios had had to act as prime defender in this case. He should have been here. He should have been powerful enough to protect them from afar. It wasn’t GOOD enough. 

He had failed them. 

He’d worked himself with drills all night in the pouring rain, until every fibre of his being was pain. Hux, busy bossing the cleaning droids about, had hurled a deep-sea sponge at the knight’s head in the early hours of the morning and threatened desertion if Ren didn’t come to bed IMMEDIATELY. 

Kylo was tired. The boys, doubly so. Helios had kept waking at intervals during the night, whimpering, alert to the merest tendril of danger spiking his aura. Even if it was only some passing insect with a malignant sting. His squirming had woken his twin, and Sulla was now impossibly grouchy.

The cycle dawned clear and strangely hot, for the Equinox season. The twins suckled on ice-pops for breakfast, thick, juicy drool running down their chins. Ren watched them beadily, and indulged, rarely, in an entire pot of caf. 

The entry-alarm chimed, shrilly. Kylo had no idea they even HAD a doorbell. 

“Doctor.” He greeted, shortly, dragging the exceedingly heavy wrought metal door that guarded the villa entrance open with straining biceps. 

“Putain de merde! What in Hells happened here?!” the woman exclaimed, stepping gingerly over the thin layers of dust and gouges of wayward blaster bolts littering the hallway. 

“Nothing of note.” The knight mumbled, scowling “Boots. Off.”

Armitage was immensely prissy about wearing shoes indoors. 

The knight led the Arkanesian medic through the centre of the villa to the master bedroom. The twins had refused to sleep in the nursery, separated from their parents by an entire stairway. They’d now barricaded themselves in a fort of pillows on their Mother and Father’s bed, finding comfort in their parent’s stench and enjoying some sort of strange strategy game that involved tossing toys at one another.

Sulla seemed to think he was winning. Unfortunately, so did Helios.

The knight exhaled sharply and dug his long, strong arms into the warm muddle of cloth and flesh, retrieving his squealing offspring from the depths. He tucked one against each shoulder and rounded on the doctor. 

“They had a scare last night.” He explained, shortly, when she eyed their pale cheeks and the dark circles beneath their eyes, how Helios kept scrubbing at them “They didn’t sleep well.”

The woman smiled thinly, and chucked the sensitive child beneath his chin “Ah, bonjour, pauvre petite chose!”

Helios blinked at her, confused. Sulla growled. Kylo sighed “In basic, or not at all, woman.”

She tutted, snapping her case of scanners open “Very well. Bring them over to the desk, please.” 

The knight did so. Far below them, a faint, muffled cry cut the air, and then was suddenly silenced. Doctor Lisse shot the Supreme Leader a sharp look, but when his expression remained unchanged, she said nothing. 

“And who is this?” the woman enquired, as Kylo set a squirming Sulla carefully down on the desk. 

“Sulla.” Ren clarified, shortly. Helios yawned, curling his miniature bare toes against his Father’s belly in a soft scrape. 

“He’s very bold.” The Arkanesian complimented, amused, as the null child pouted furiously up at her, glaring imperiously. 

The knight snorted, and caught the boy’s arm when Sulla went to stand “Yes, he is. Sulla, sit still.”

“Daddy! Oo dis???” the boy demanded, jabbing a pudgy finger and thumb up at the offending medic. 

“She is the doctor. She’ll make sure you’re healthy.” Ren explained, with hitherto unknown patience. 

Sulla looked doctor Lisse up, then down, his soft titian mop of hair flopping. Then, he concluded stubbornly “No, Daddy!”

“YES, Sully.” The Supreme Leader countered, his tone laced with warning. His son, though disobedient and obtuse in most respects, knew at least to respect Daddy’s ‘careful’ voice. He plopped back on his plump behind, and attempted to fold his arms in a startling recreation of the patented Hux Sulk. 

Thus the examination began.

The doctor conducted the ordinary scans. Shone strange contraptions in the child’s ears, nose and mouth. Gave him small puzzle toys to play with, which Sulla largely refused to indulge in, stubbornly hurling them at the far window. Bade him crawl or stand, which the child did after an approving nod from his Father. 

“He’s speaking and walking exceedingly well for his age.” Lisse muttered, prying a pale thumb between the boy’s rigid gums “Show me your teeth, poppet.” 

“Dad-DY!” Sulla protested, having had enough “Dodor is STOOPID. No mo!”

He shoved the doctor’s fingers away as hard as he could, the intent to bite shining in his eyes. The knight frowned, and scooped the child away before he could do any true damage. 

“They’ll soon be one full rotation old, non?” Lisse enquired, smothering her claws with bacta gel. 

Kylo nodded. True. He must contact Ankh soon and find out if he’d acquired the items Ren needed for this truly special occasion.

The harpy beckoned for the second twin to brought forth. Helios unfurled his hand and waved at her shyly “Hewwo dodor! I’m Ew-ee-o.”

The woman blinked, stunned by the abrupt change in tone, before smiling back “Hello, Elio. Can you show me your teeth, please?” he nodded enthusiastically, opening his mouth wide just as he did for his Mother when Hux wanted to brush his newly earned canines “Very good. Now follow my finger.”

Helios passed his exams without fuss. Sulla’s sticky fingers found his Father’s hair again, and tugged. Ren winced. He should consider some sort of braids, as Armitage had suggested…

“Well, your Supreme ominousness.” Doctor Lisse concluded tartly “They both seem in perfect health. Helios is developmentally en pointe for his age, Sulla is somewhat further along. Nothing to be concerned about.” She withdrew a truly evil looking silver cylinder and ten-point needle from her case “They do need their VAC shots.”

“…are they High Arkanesian?” Kylo deflected, suddenly.

It had been on his mind for some time. 

“You mean do they possess the same female organs as their Mother?” the woman enquired, eyebrow cocked “No. They are both full humanoid males.”

The knight nodded. Processed this news. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that – relief, that it was one less aspect of his children to worry about. A little regret, that they weren’t like their Mother in this. Couldn’t bear their own progenies inside of them. 

Still. Their health came first. 

“Distract them, please.” The woman muttered, sharply, flicking the long VAC dispenser with a sharp nail. 

Kylo picked up Helios’ favourite toy, the Ewok, and jiggled it in front of his sensitive child’s curious nose “Elio! Look! Bok is doing a dance!”

Helios flailed for his plush friend, excited, and didn’t notice when the cylindrical mouth of the VAC dispenser pressed against his neck and hissed, softly. 

The boy promptly jumped and howled, snatching his toy and glaring reprovingly at the doctor with shining eyes. 

Sulla promptly went MAD, kicking his tiny legs and lurching towards the doctor, outraged “DADDY!!! Ow dare!” 

The Supreme Leader wrestled his child close and shushed him, placating “Sully, Elio is fine. See? It’s a special medicine for him so he won’t get sick.”

Sulla gazed at his Father with a look of utter betrayal when Lisse approached him with the shining device. 

“No.” the child said, firmly, squirming back and trying to hide between his Father’s pectorals. 

“Sulla…” Ren rumbled, another warning. 

“NO!” his son squirmed, wailing “Daddy, no bac!” he wiggled, inspiration striking, and howled “MUMMY!!!”

Kylo winced, but said, sternly “Sulla. This is not negotiable.”

“IS nagoatabubble!” the child burst out, infuriated. He was so incensed that he, too, failed to notice the gleam of the VAC dispenser just before it sank into his neck. 

The ensuing tantrum took several long clics and another round of singing to diffuse. Doctor Lisse, wisely, saw herself out. 

It was well past mid-cycle when the Marshall and the Admiral emerged from the cellar, peeling and stripping back leather gloves from their fingers and dabbing their shining temples with cloth. The Supreme Leader had busied himself with more training drills in the living suite, and the twins were curiously attempting to join in (Helios sitting on his Father’s back when he did push-ups) or mimic him (Sulla hilariously tumbling over onto his behind and getting very, very cross).

“Well?” Ren and Hux said in imperious unison, then blinked.

“Adorable.” Sloane commented, rolling her eyes and pushing a halo crush of tiny, spiralling hairs back from her forehead “I need a drink.”

Armitage seemed agitated, but sated and triumphant. His gait held that same smugness that used to be directed at the knight when they knocked shoulders in front of Snoke. Ren gleaned from the surface of his thoughts that the Marshall had gained the information he wanted.

“You first. How are our boys?” Hux said, shortly, reclining in a capacious armchair by the fire grate and lifting Helios into his lap when the boy toddled over. 

Ren grunted, pushing up from the floor and curling his legs beneath him “Both well. Both healthy. They’ve had their shots.” 

The Marshall nodded, pleased, and traced the soft shell of Helios’ ear. The boy giggled. Kylo cleared his throat “Armitage. They aren’t High Arkanesian.”

Hux nodded, pressing his pink lips together “No womb?”

“No womb.”

The Marshall exhaled, his aura pulsating with confliction “Thank Hells.” He murmured, tapping Helios’ nose pensively “No teenage pregnancy scares for you, my loves!”

“And you?” the Supreme Leader demanded, surging to his feet with a creak of muscle and bone. Sulla copied him and grabbed his Father’s hand, greedily. 

Hux did not immediately answer. The knight stretched out incorporeal fingers and sifted through the man’s immediate memories. A pale eyed, pale haired girl, barely a woman. Eyes lit with fervour and her hair tugged back into two messy buns. An Organa-worshipper on some some crazed, heroic venture.

“The Rebel girl.” Armitage began, lips twitching in disdain “She wasn’t sent by her precious General: seems she had some strange notion of kidnapping the children, bringing them ‘home’.” He snorted, his fury spiking once again “Sloppy.”

“You’re certain?” the knight said, darkly. If Organa had indeed sent the girl…

“Trust me, kid, we’re certain.” Sloane said, flatly, re-entering the room with a tall glass of expensive Didcottian spice-spirit. 

The Supreme Leader nodded, slowly. Sat down heavily in the armchair beside his fiancé and traced Armitage’ knuckles, thinking “And the other?”

A second face drifted to the forefront of the Marshall’s mind’s eye: an Arlusian, lilac-skinned with thick dark hair and four bulbous eyes. Thin as a bundle of sticks.

“Foolish slip of a boy.” Sloane commented, swirling her beverage “Overeager Nabooan tablo journalist. Happened to see you two leaving and hoped he could get a few holos, perhaps some dirt.”

Armitage steepled his fingers, reclining back. Helios giggles and reached for them, ignoring his Mother’s plotting “…good. This is good.”

“How?!” Ren demanded, startling a sleepy Sulla, who had taken up his usual residence against his Father’s belly. 

“You’ll see.” The Marshall said, darkness curling in his aura like a delicious poison “I can turn this to our advantage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: OHYMGOSH I found footage of Domnhall with a baby. I am broken: bit.ly/2tRZ7Sb
> 
> If anybody has any more content of Adam or donut with babbies, SEND ME IT.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was SO fun to write!!! Hope y'all love it! In which Hux spills all the tea. ALL OF IT. There's tea everywhere.

“Are you going to kill me?”

He truly was just a slip of a boy, the Supreme Leader thought. The Nabooan journalist had been dragged up from the bowels of the villa by an aggravated Admiral Sloane, and was currently kneeling prostrate on their living suite floor. Armitage was already contemplating having the entire building cleansed, after this little visit was concluded.

He had a mop of fashionably dyed lilac hair, now flopping forlornly over his crooked face. He appeared unharmed, but deeply shaken. 

Ren gleaned from Hux’ memories that they had made the boy watch the interrogation of the Resistance girl. And that had easily been enough. 

The Marshall smirked toothily “Kill you? Dear me, no.” his aura pulsated with barely contained glee “I’m going to give you an exclusive interview.”

The knight blinked. The boy blinked. What-!

“What’s your name?” Armitage enquired, businesslike, and turned to surveying the room “Kylo. Light the fire, would you…? I want this to look intimate.”

Ren shot his fiancé a thunderous look: a clear warning. But, for now, chose to obey. Armitage rewarded him with an indulgent look and a brief caress to the cheek. The knight told himself, sternly, that he would NOT be placated. 

It didn’t work. He liked it when Hux touched him too much.

The Nabooan, adjusting with brutal speed to this fortuitous shift in events, rose shakily to his feet and cleared his throat “M-my name is T’emzee Kodak, Grand Marshall. I work for the The Garotte, it’s a – a holo channel.”

Armitage directed Ren to push the loveseat over to stand, at a precise angle, beside the fire, and said dismissively “Is it popular? Is it pan-galactic?”

Kodak licked his thin lips, a flicker of greed lighting his bulbous eyes “Oh, yessir! Extremely. We have readers and fans throughout the inner and outer rim.”

“Good.” The Marshall said, shortly “You have equipment? Set it up over there.”

Hux caught the Supreme Leader’s wrist and tugged him over to a corner, out of earshot. His eyes were lit with the same brusque fervour before one of his impassioned speeches: his aura near crackled with purpose. Kylo stared at him, levelly. 

The Marshall reached up and curled his fingers in the thick heave of ebony hair framing either side of the Ren’s face, and tucked them fussily behind his ears. His fingers then slid down to fix the knight’s dark sleep-shirt: he was muttering. Should we change…? No, this should look natural. This is perfect. He looks perfect.

Kylo Ren did not like to be manipulated.

He growled, lowly “Armitage-“

“Do you trust me?”

The Supreme Leader balked. Dug his teeth into his lower lip, hard, relishing the pain “No. Yes. Sometimes.”

Hux fixed him with a conflicted, excruciatingly gentle look “Smart boy.” He leaned up and pressed his lips to the corner of Ren’s mouth, pensive “I need your permission to be bold.”

The knight consulted the slow, creeping unfurl of Armitage’ plan. His stomach sunk like a cold stone. His heart squeezed. He flinched.

“Kylo.” Hux murmured, in that low cadence that shot straight to Ren’s cock “This will be good for you. I promise.”

Struck a little senseless, the knight nodded, briefly. 

They sat side by side, pressed plush along the smooth lines of their shoulders to their thighs to their ankles. Armitage laid a loose hand on the knight’s knee, thumb smoothing absently back and forth over the cap of bone. It looked unstaged because it largely wasn’t. 

“Don’t talk unless you feel the need to.” Hux instructed. Ren snorted. He didn’t intend to. Speech was Armitage’ domain. 

Kodak finished tweaking his recording equipment, nodding to himself, and hastily fixed his hair. Sloane brought a tall, wooden stool from the cantinette with some sort of psychic intuition, before returning to overseeing the boy’s breakfast. They were calm and subdued, today.

The Nabooan tucked his datapad against his knees, and cleared his throat "So tell me, Grand Marshall. You've shunned interviews before. Why now?"

Armitage’ nostrils flared "Honestly? My hand has been somewhat forced. Due to the incident that occurred at our home, last night."

Kodak’s eyes widened in a stunningly convincing display of faux-surprise and intrigue "Incident? Do tell! The galaxy deserves to know."

"It does indeed." Hux said, darkly "Last night, while my fiancé and I slipped away to see our doctor...I’m still somewhat recovering, you see. A Rebel adjutant sneaked into our children's bedroom and tried to snatch them from their cradle."

Kylo had to concede: Hux was good at this. His choice of words was very careful. Fiancé. Doctor. Recovery. Cradle. He was spinning a picture of them, the quiet, loving, intimate family. Just wishing to be left alone. Infiltrated. Assaulted. 

The Nabooan gasped, softly "Rebel you say?! You have proof?"

The Marshall nodded, lips pressed together with half-faked tension "I have her confession. I'll gladly share it with you, and the public."

Kodak began tapping feverishly on his datapad, aura humming, ALIGHT with glee – this interview would make his career "Was she sent by the children's Grandmother? General Leia Organa?"

Kylo’s knees jerked, sharply. Armitage shot him a brief, indulgent glance, and squeezed his thigh gently "My children already have a Grandmother. Admiral Rae Sloane." 

The knight exhaled. Yes. True.

"But, no. The Rebel spy acted alone." The Marshall continued: this was not news to Ren. 

The girl was very close to the General. She had personally witnessed the woman’s stern grief as to her loss, and decided to do something about it. Save those sweet babies from the clutches of the evil Order. How very romantic. 

Armitage cocked his head "But is that not worse...? Is General Organa prowling the halls of some far flung planet, weeping? Utterly losing control of her troops?"

Ren swallowed a smirk. Genius. Now, the Marshall was creating an impression of a weak, pathetic Resistance. Creeping and overseen by a half-mad, hysterical old woman. Those who already had doubts as to the legitimacy of their enemy would certainly think twice, now. 

"It's interesting that the Resistance hurls slander at The Order for child stealing, when they'd stoop to kidnapping babies from their parents." Hux snapped, chin rising with the frank accusation.

Kodak cleared his throat, tap-tap-tapping his gaudy rings against the edge of his datapad "...is that not hypocritical? The Order's infamous Academy..."

The Marshall inclined his head "The program, yes. To that, I say - how is it different than the Old Jedi Order of the Republic? Did they not also wrench children from their homes and raise them as they saw fit, in a creepy, loveless cult?"

Kylo had never thought of it that way.

"Did they not also dispatch themselves, conquer planets in war, slaughter as they decreed?" Armitage said, coldly.

Kodak clearly had never thought of it that way, either. His mouth fell open, gormless, and he stuttered "... W-Well yes..."

The Marshall barely drew breath: he was in full-flow, now, his words a steady stream of righteous propaganda "And Vader, once the galaxy's liberator, is now held in regard as some sort of tragic villain." 

Armitage covered Ren’s left hand in his own. The knight hadn’t noticed he’d balled his fingers into a bloodless fist. Hux slipped his fingers into the hot barricade of flesh and laced their fingers, squeezing in brief warning.

"He was a victim." He said, ominously "As was Kylo Ren."

The knight’s head snapped to the side and he STARED. 

Kodak was similarly enthralled, leaning forward on his stool with a creak of groaning wood "...oh? Do go on, Marshall! I appreciate this must be difficult..."

Hux shook his head "Not for me. I'm angry on my family's behalf." The blood in Kylo’s head jumped, like an eager child, his mind filled with nothing but white "Aged... What was it, Kylo? Nine?"

So the galaxy was to know everything.

The Supreme Leader swallowed, slowly, and licked his lips, muttering "Seven."

"Seven." Armitage petted his wrist, soothing "Kylo, then Ben Solo, was sent by his Mother to his Uncle's Jedi Cult. Abandoned."

Silence. The Marshall allowed the significance of the statement to sink in, before "There, he was taught to be loveless. To be sexless. To ignore pain. To fight." 

Armitage stared straight at the journalist’s stunned face "Does that sound like a place of peace to you?"

Kodak shivered "What of the rumours Kylo Ren murdered his fellow students?"

Ren’s fingers twitched for his sabre but Hux held him firm "He did. But did you know it was in self defence...?" 

Kylo concentrated closely on keeping the shadowy spectres of that night far from his mind: listened, instead, for the soft burble of his children’s voices behind him. Helios was explaining to his Grandmother in a gentle blend of speech and flailing hands, why puceberry pudding was the Best Thing Ever. 

"What?!" the Nabooan journalist gasped, genuinely shocked. 

Emboldened, the Marshall plunged mercilessly on "Luke Skywalker tried to murder him in his sleep. Cut him down. With his lightsaber."

Kodak whistled lowly "Kriiiiiiff. That's quite the accusation, Marshall."

Hux flicked his free hand imperiously "I invite all members of the Resistance to simply ask their General. Or the girl from Jakku: Rey. She knows. Kylo told her."

Ren had. She had not seen things his way. But Armitage did. Was this how his revenge on Ben Solo’s Uncle would truly be realised…? Simply with the truth? Hux was killing the memory of Luke Skywalker, here. Tearing his heroic name to pieces. Rending everything he had been to nothing but dishonour. 

Kylo loved him for it. 

"Why would Luke Skywalker do such a thing?" Kodak breathed, tottering, practically falling from his chair. 

Armitage inhaled sharply, a low, resigned rattle "You'd best ask him. Fear, I'd wager. Jealousy." His eyes flitted over to the glint of the holo recorder "Your precious hero is nothing but loveless child killer."

Silence.

"...Daddy???"

Kylo blinked. Miniature fingers were tugging at his shirt, a pair of largely identical faces peering curiously at him like upturned suns. He had been so lost in himself that he hadn’t noticed his children toddle in. Helios’ cheeks were sticky with jam, and Sulla was regarding the journalist with a sour, accusatory glare. 

Armitage adapted, immediately, stroking Sulla’s smooth hair and cooing "Hello, my loves. Have you finished your breakfast already?" 

Helios reached for his Father, eyes shining with worry "Daddy kay?" 

He’d sensed Ren’s distress. The knight was filled with regret, but also warmth. This small bundle of thoughts and feelings he had created was kind. Was loving. Cared when Kylo was hurting. 

Sulla climbed with remarkable agility into his Mother’s lap, settling there "Ewio finks Daddy is cwy." He explained, as though delivering a report. 

Armitage curled his arms around the boy and sighed, dismissing the interview with a cutting "I think that's quite enough."

The Naboaan hastily shut of his equipment, reviewing the footage, shaking with excitement "....gonna make my career, karking Hell..." 

They sat in silence for a long time. The twins, warm with breakfast and sated with their long sleep, nestled patiently amongst their parent’s bodies. Waited. 

"Do you believe all of that?" the knight asked, eventually. Although he knew the answer. 

"It's true. Isn't it?" his fiancé returned, his tone light with rare honesty.

"Yes." Kylo said, stiffly, graciously accepting the sticky kiss that Helios pressed to his chin. He frowned "I'm not a victim."

"No." Armitage agreed "You're a survivor." 

They both were. Survivors turned conquerors.

“I love you.” Kylo said, very, very quietly, eyes averted. 

“I know.” Hux replied, swallowing a smirk.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Switching it up! This chapter is a bit of an interlude of sorts, and will be from Rey’s POV. Gotta check in with my lovely Lightsiders.
> 
> Please note, there will be no Rose in this fic. No disrespect to Miss Tran, she pulled off a great performance. But I didn’t feel Rose as a character really added much, so she won’t be appearing in this universe.
> 
> That and I’m a hardcore Rey/Finn/Poe shipper, hehe.

It’d been like watching a speeder crash. 

A very, very slow one. And not being able to do anything to stop it. They’d managed to run the infamous interview in grainy low-definition on an old rust-bucket of a holo-reader, after Poe had lovingly whispered a few sweet nothings to it. That hadn’t worked. Then, Finn kicked it. That HAD worked.

It was utterly boiling hot with a dank, wet heat on this planet. And the cooling fans were broken. Not the most impressive state of affairs at the Resistance High Command.

Well. It was really just an old abandoned fortress used by pirates, but Rey rather liked that. It had a certain romance to it. The walls sang of riches and raucous songs, and alcohol. Lots and lots and LOTS of alcohol.

"You gotta hand it to him." Poe said, eyebrows raised so high they crinkled his forehead, scrubbing at the day-or-so of stubble gracing his cut chin "For a lady, he's got balls."

Rey frowned, absently fanning Finn’s shining brown skin with her hands (he was terrible in the heat: she was used to it, of course. At least there was no kriffing SAND here) "...I don't understand?"

General Hux wasn’t a woman, was he…? Rey had thought he was just a man who could have babies. Stranger things had happened in the galaxy.

"... I mean he's got guts, Rey." The pilot clarified, cupping his coarse hands side-by-side in mid air, bobbing them gently in front of his chest. He smirked "Cahones."

"These?" the former scavenger queried, pressing her bound fingers curiously to the small swells of flesh on her chest. 

"NO!” the pilot squawked, turning a fascinating shade of scarlet – odd, given he and Finn were both very well acquainted with said – ‘cahones’??? “No, the uhm, the other-"

Finn, wisely, had buried his face in his hands and not emerged. 

Rey clicked her fingers, brightly, understanding "Oh, those. But what do testicles have to do with bravery?"

"You may well ask." General Organa’s wry, stern voice cut through the fray. Her dark eyes were crinkled in amusement, and Rey was glad. 

Over the past few rotations, their leader seemed to have. Well. Shrunk. She still went about her duties with the stern, determined doggedness and dignity that was her character. But. She had somehow faded. The light inside her dim with loss upon loss upon loss.

They were all worried. This? This would not help. 

"Forget I said anything. Ever. In my life." The pilot muttered, following Finn in burying his face in his hands. 

The ex-Stormtrooper lifts his chin and rested it on an upturned palm, his wide lips twitching with mirth "Not your smoothest moment, hotshot."

"I can be smooth!" Poe protested, flailing his stout, tan limbs wildly. 

Finn thought for a moment "The jacket?" 

Poe winked "You know it, babe."

Rey was always stunned how a man with such beautifully dark skin, as Finn had, could flush so deeply. But he could. And so readily – they’d all been. Well. Engaging with one another for quite some time, now. Finn could be so adorably shy about it all. And clueless. Even Rey knew about quick and sticky dealings behind the junk sheds on Jakku. 

Sex education in the First Order was atrocious, it seemed. Maybe THAT’S what had happened to General Hux…???

"How are you, General?" she asked, standing quickly and taking the other woman’s sleeve with gentle fingers. She searched her leader’s gaze, glanced across her mind, unthinking.

Sad. Leia was so intolerably sad. 

"Not stellar." The General conceded, her fingers twitching beneath Rey’s loose grip. She turned the girl’s hand over and patted it, soothingly. 

It was such a shame that there was nobody left who their leader could truly confide in. She was loved, and she knew that, of course. But they were all so much her junior. Leia Organa had lost her husband, her brother. Most of her peers. And she couldn’t afford to lose face in front of her people.

Rey must do her best to be there for her, she decided. As Han and Luke could not. 

Poe jumped to his feet, curls bouncing with indignation "We can't stand for this! Master Skywalker was a hero! We can't let that rat-faced ginger wobbegong lie like this and get away with it." He huffed, nostrils flaring, impassioned "Right, General?" 

Leia swallowed a wince. Exhaled, slowly, turned on her heel. And left, heading for her rooms.

The pilot deflated, chewing on his lip "... Something I said?" Finn patted his knee, soothing Poe’s bruised confidence "I mean. It's not true."

Both of their beloved faces turned, inevitably, to her "Rey?"

The scavenger sighed, shoulders caving "It's. Very complicated." She snatched her pack from the dusty, uneven floor and slung it over her shoulder "I gotta go. Back soon.” She pressed a warm, dry kiss to Finn’s cheek, Poe’s temple “Play nice."

She dove through the warren of smooth tunnels easily, ducking her head here, hop-stepping over detritus there. 

She hesitated, but only briefly, before rapping her knuckles against Leia’s closed door "...General Organa?" then, more softly "Leia?" 

Silence. Then "Come in, Rey."

The General was sat at her bureau, an old, cracked but highly functional mirror set on the smooth top. She was always so impeccably turned out, no matter where they were. Rey was in awe of her control. How her hair was always twined perfectly, her clothes well cut and hanging wonderfully from her body. 

She was re-pinning her hair, dragging it tighter back. It helped, Rey knew. Something small to focus on. 

"I just. I wanted." Rey didn’t know WHAT to say, suddenly. So much pain. She thought of Ben, the boy whose plump face she’d seen in snatches of Luke and Leia’s memory. Of Ben the man, Kylo Ren, face sourly pale like milk and eyes red-raw with rage "I'm sorry."

Leia turned to her, smiling patiently, and extended a hand "For what, silly girl?" 

Rey rushed over, took the General’s wrinkled palm between her own "I just am."

Quiet. Rey burst out, vehemently "I can't believe he's still being manipulated like this."

She’d seen it. How Ben had sat there and said NOTHING while that conniving First Order General had spun his poisonous web of treasonous truths and white lies. He hadn’t stopped the man. Why?!

Leia sighed, shortly "Ben was many things, but stupid isn't one of them." She seemed resigned "That foolish son of mine is where he wants to be."

Rey crouched beside her, folding her arms across the caps of her knees, utterly confused "Why?! Snoke is gone." 

There was no reason. No reason in the world for Ben to still want – that life. Rey knew how terrible it had been on him. The training, the constant, relentless agony. The bitter loneliness. Why now, in Hells name, would he want to rule that castle of sand?

She supposed he did have a real reason, now, at least. Two of them. But he could have come with her…before. 

"He's been searching all his life. He was always like that. Dissatisfied." The General pondered, frowning "He wanted something neither Han nor I nor Luke could give him."

"...what's that?" Rey asked. 

She had a sudden impression from Leia of that sad, sour boy, again. Of little Ben setting a tablecloth alight at some stodgy political event, stung by his Mother’s neglect. He’d looked so CONFUSED when she’d been angry with him. He just couldn’t understand. He wanted attention. He wanted her to marvel at his gifts.

She was afraid of him. She’d regret that til the day she died. 

"Acceptance. Understanding." Leia murmured. 

"But you loved him." Rey emphasised, her voice cracking just a little. 

The General nodded, sliding her fingers out of the girl’s and returning them to her greying hair "I did. I sent him away because I thought it would help. He was SO unhappy..." 

All of this suffering, Rey thought. Because of one lost boy.

"You're a good person." She said, softly.

"That wasn't enough." Leia replied, with resigned acceptance. As if she had drawn that conclusion long ago. 

Rey cleared her throat "What'll become of Connix?" 

The General consulted her datapad, nostrils flaring, a little of her fire returning to her eyes as she scowled "She's been incarcerated on Naboo. The Marshall is making ridiculous demands in exchange for her freedom." Her ringed thumb pushed at her temple "This is bad."

The girl stood and couldn’t help but start pacing "...but nothing has changed? Surely?" 

"Everything has changed." Leia chided, firmly "This isn't like the war of the First Republic. This is a war for hearts and minds. Not just planets."

In explanation, she held out her datapad. Rey took it, wincing a little at the harsh blue light. The General was perusing a stream of media responses on the holo-net.

xXwingXXman: WTK! i don't buy this Hux stuff

Twilek5000: Jedi stole my Uncle! My Dad never saw him again! #justice4Ren

BobatheRancor: u don't hear Resistance denying it tho 

*Sabregurl*: say what u like they make the best babies 

BB10-Z: Kylo Ren is kinda hot tho y u wear a mask boi #youcanbeMYSupremeLeaderbaby

The scavenger girl could only blink, stunned. This was…how could they not understand?! The Order was monstrous. Kylo Ren was a MURDERER. Hux had signal handed ordered the death of millions. Billions!

“They love them.” Leia said, sounding as tired as she looked “We’re losing this war.”

Rey licked her lips, and took the woman’s elbow. She was trembling, very gently. From exhaustion, from grief, she didn’t know “Maybe you should get some rest, General?” she squeezed the other woman’s bony arm gently “You’re not alone. You have us. All of us.”

The General allowed Rey to help her pad over to her sleep-bench, to tug the thick clutch of her cloak from her. She folded the material carefully and set it aside, brought the leader a cool glass of water. Leia sighed “Thank you, Rey.”

The scavenger retreated, flicking the lights off and shutting the door softly behind her.

Then, she strode, burning, overflowing with the crackle of emotion and power, to her own room. She snatched her pumice stone, pestle and mortar, her herbs and pastes. Lit the long line of incense and set it on its stand. Sat, cross legged. BREATHED. 

Concentrated. Her eyes slipped slowly closed. She focused upon Ben. The tendrils of him, finding that one, fine thread, that lead her, slowly, slowly, to the man. 

The sun was shining. Suns. It was early morning. Some bird was chittering, startled. It smelled heavy here, pungent, a natural, flowery perfume of pollen and fat petals. Beyond the yawn of an open doorway, water glistened. And sighed. 

“Hewwo!”

Startled, she jumped back. 

There was a child. A boy. Well, of course there was, that was – but – she hadn’t expected – oh. But he was sweet. Very sweet. Dressed in soft, blue sleep socks and a buttoned sleep-suit, wrinkled with use. His hair was luridly titian (like his Mother, Rey thought, aghast) and lay in tangled curls on his head. His ears stuck out. Miniature, but obvious. 

Like Ben’s did. Oh. He looked SO much like Ben had, in Leia’s memories. He had his eyes. Deep, dark brown. Almost black. 

“Hewwo, bu lay-dee!” the child chirruped, trustingly, his plump fingers working gently at a soft Ewok toy in his arms “I’m Ewio! Oo you?”

“W-well hello, there.” She stuttered, hunkering down so she could peer into his little face “I’m Rey.”

The child frowned. Rey searched her memory desperately for his name. Helio? Helios, that was it. The child with lots of little dots on his face. Not the other one, the one who was scowling in the holo. She shivered. 

“Mmmmm…no!” the boy squeaked, frowning in confusion, flapping a pink hand towards the door behind him “Ganny Bae ith there!”

Ganny…who…?

“R-E-Y. Rey.” She tried, and couldn’t help the answering grin when he smiled shyly at her, shuffling his tiny feet. 

“Bey???” he tried again, uncertainly. 

“Yes!” she said, ecstatic, and clapped her hands. Then, suddenly, she remembered “Uhm. Oh, that’s right. Is your-“

“EWIO!!!”

Another child’s high voice shrieked from the corridor, and there was the sound of pattering footsteps. Rey could feel the other boy’s aura pulsating with a flutter of panic. He was looking for his brother. He didn’t like to be apart from him, she could feel it. 

Helios huffed and looked up at her with an indulgent, knowing look that seemed somehow far beyond his years. As if he knew why his twin was panicking: was used to coddling him “My brotha is vewwy botthy. Bye bye, Bey!”

A sour, matching little face peered around the door frame. 

This boy’s hair was impeccably neat, as were his clothes. His eyes were lit with intelligence and his nose was scrunched, rather adorably, as he surveyed the room. Rey tensed-

The child spotted his brother and promptly ran straight through her to him. Took Helios’ hands and tugged him towards the door, babbling something strange and unintelligible.

Rey stared. He couldn’t see her. That meant-

“What do you want, girl?” a low, ominous voice rumbled directly behind her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To me, a year in Star Wars (or a rotation as I call em) is approx 14 months. Don’t as me why. So that’s how old the boys are, now!
> 
> Back to Kylo POV.

It was still difficult to see the girl. Ren hated that.

He wished he could say that he hated her: but he didn’t. Armitage called her simple, unworthy. He was right. But she was so GOOD. Kylo had thought, if only she could be made to see the truth – then he, by extension, must also be good. 

Now he knew it no longer mattered. Good. Evil. Dark, Light. It was all fiction spun by wrinkled old wizards to keep the young from the pursuit of power. 

“You have to stop this.” She said, emphatically. Her hair had grown longer. It sat heavily at the nape of her neck, now. And her skin had darkened further. Some hot planet, then. He must let Hux know. 

Speaking of which.

The Supreme Leader turned neatly upon his heel, and bore himself through the gape of the doorway, and away. Towards the smooth pearlescence floors and warm, bustling hum of the cantinette.

He felt, rather than saw the girl’s jaw drop in astonishment “Oi! Come back here! We are NOT done talking!” the expected stomp of her footfall, of course, couldn’t follow him: but her voice did, slung awkward and fervently at the back of his head “Don’t you DARE ignore me. I’m not going away, Ben.”

The knight rolled his shoulders, the bones clicking in their sockets like the slow wind of some archaic weapon being drawn. His feet were bare and the tiles of the corridor were a cool kiss against them.

Nothing could spoil today. He would ALLOW nothing to spoil, today. 

The girl followed him to the threshold of the cantinette: then stopped.

The twins were sat in their chairs, rolled in their sleep fatigues like warm meat patties and cheeks rosy with the flicker of the suns climbing in the sky beyond the window. Armitage was dressed in one of Ren’s own coal grey shirts, the collar gaping and slipping over the gentle slope of one pale, dappled shoulder. His left wrist was extended, the bone jutting upwards across the proud line of his arm.

He was fussing at Sulla’s hair. All of their hair was lit, bloodlike, by the sunrise behind them. Helios squeaked a sleepy greeting at his Father. 

The scavenger girl didn’t recognise Hux.

Kylo could feel the startled scramble of her thoughts colliding in the ephemeral air. She hadn’t noticed how pink Armitage’ lips were, like the insides of a shell, or how slender he was. The Marshall’s bony wrists and elbows and collar were all exposed, soft material hanging off him like drapes. His eyes were pale green, and he was smiling wryly at his children. 

…this was the Starkiller? She thought. And felt mildly sickened. Kylo smirked.

Ren prowled over to his fiancé with a determined air: slid an arm around Hux’ waist and yanked him flush to him, kissing him fiercely. The Marshall, thoroughly startled, bit clean through the knight’s lip with a growl before curling possessive fingers in Kylo’s shirt, crumpling it. 

There was a resounding CRASH and tinkle as Armitage’ caf mug fell to the floor and shattered. They ignored it. Their teeth and tongues were a mess of smooth enamel and hot velvet flesh-

“Oh my KRIFF, seriously?!” the girl squeaked, covering her eyes, her aura pulsating enormously. 

Helios waved a spoon, delighted, bouncing up and down in his chair and making loud, sloppy kissing noises “Kithy-kithy! Chu chu!”

“Ewww.” Sulla concluded, nose wrinkling, supping at his sip-cup of de-caf with deep disdain. 

“You’re acting suspiciously.” Armitage exhaled, lowly, scowling as he drew away from the Supreme Leader with a sordidly wet pop. His lips faintly bruised. His eyes were dark and not displeased. 

Ren rolled his shoulders in a shrug. He tugged the sleeves of Hux’ stolen shirt down over his bony wrists, lifted the collar over his décolletage. He didn’t like the girl looking at Hux with such scrutiny. 

Armitage, exposed, belonged to him. 

He glanced down at the cantinette island-top as the Admiral wandered blearily in, dragged from her lie-in by the noise “Are the cake and the candles really necessary?”

The Marshall looked at him sharply, pink spots darkening the high concavity of his cheeks “It’s an Arkanesian tradition.”

The confection was lopsided and the edges a little crisp, indicating that Armitage had had at least a vague hand in its creation. The man could design a superweapon but barely crack an egg without an explosion in the cantinette. It boggled the mind. 

“I smothered it in jam and creams, you’ll barely taste the charr.” Sloane muttered, furtively, as she passed the knight’s shoulder “Armie here never got one himself! Have a heart, big lump.”

“Fine.” Kylo groused. The girl opened her mouth to speak. Then closed it, again. 

The Marshall crouched down, took each of his son’s hands in his fingers and kissed their cheeks.

“Ready?” he said, sombrely, as though preparing for some grand speech, before inhaling sharply and breaking into the familiar, simple song “Happy Lifeday to you~!” 

Hux paused, levelling an ominous scowl at his two compatriots when they did not immediately join him “Rae. Ren.”

The Admiral groaned like a child “Must I?”

“YES.” Armitage growled, promising prolonged and painful suffering if they continued to disobey. 

“Sing, Daddy! Daddy sing NOW!” Sulla chimed in, waving his sip-cup imperiously. 

“Shhh, Sully.” Hux hushed, before resuming the melody with tuneless enthusiasm “Happy Lifeday to you! Happy Lifeday to you! May you live long and conquer, Happy Lifeday to you!”

Helios shrieked as even the Supreme Leader engaged in enthused clapping. The child flapped excitedly for the flame flickering in the centre of the table, puffing his little cheeks out “Mummy, bo!!!”

Armitage lifted him gently “Do you want help, my love? One. Two. Three. Blow!” the ember sputtered and died with a soft curl of rancid smoke “Excellent work.”

Sulla looked to his Father, thoroughly bemused by all this pointless pomp and ceremony. Kylo stroked his son’s cheeks gently with the back of his knuckles. The child reached to be held. 

Ren could do nothing but obey. 

“I’m won???” Sulla stated, thoughtfully. Kylo nodded. The child frowned “Ow old Daddy???”

“Thirty.” The Supreme Leader answered, and the boy gaped at him as though that was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard. Ren felt mildly insulted. 

He wasn’t aware that Sulla knew NUMBERS now. Perhaps he didn’t. The boy had a tendency to pretend to understand even when he had no clue. Proud. Like his Mother. 

“How can you want this for yourself, and dispense nothing but loss and cruelty to others just like you?” the girl asked, her voice pained and tremulous. 

“Now, presents.” Armitage said, gleefully, interrupting Rey with impeccable timing. 

The Supreme Leader reached into his pocket and pulled out the three boxes he had secreted there that morning. He had had to smuggle Ankh to the threshold under the cover of darkness, having slipped a surreptitious sleep-stim into Hux’ brandy. But the Marshall need never know that. Besides. This was worth it.

Hux frowned as Kylo carefully laid the three, simple, dark brittle-wood boxes down on the counter “Why are there three?”

The man was concerned Ren was playing favourites. The knight bristled, his ears filling with blood “One is for you.”

Armitage inhaled sharply, the veneer of his suspicion shattering and falling from his face like porcelain shards “Oh.”

His features wrinkled, awkwardly. Caught somewhere between an embarrassed sneer, and a shy, retiring smile. The Supreme Leader caught his fiancé’s wrist and squeezed it until the skin turned bloodless. He licked his lips.

These past few nights, he had dreamt of nothing but that day. The Marshall had no inkling of how CLOSE it had been. 

The man’s heart had stopped, cold. Twice. 

On instinct, Kylo had pressed the sodden, writhing mounds of the twins against Hux’ cooling cheeks, and begged, while the medi-droids did their work. The Marshall’s translucent lashes had fluttered when Helios bellowed mournfully beside his ivory ear. 

The Supreme Leader pushed his nose, searchingly, against the pungent juncture between Hux’ jaw and neck “I have some difficult memories of this cycle.” He shuddered, deeply “You…laboured tirelessly. And.”

The Marshall sighed in the manner that always made Kylo feel rotations younger than he was, and pinched his cheek “Don’t ruin this by making it sentimental.” 

But his tone was gentle.

He drew away, snatched up the largest of the boxes with psychic intuition “A present! I like presents. Help the boys open theirs.”

They adjourned the living suite: Sloane, yawning toothily and grumbling about being too old to be titillated by this kark, tottered back to bed. The Supreme Leader made a point of sweeping straight through the girl’s translucent trunk, as he bore Sulla away. He swallowed a shiver at the sensation. 

Strange to think how he had relished the simple slip of her fingers against his own: when he now devoured the precious flesh of his lover and children, daily. 

The Supreme Leader folded his legs beneath him, inhaling the cool creep of coming frosts dwindling through the open veranda doors. He snagged Armitage’ pale, bare ankle as he passed, tugging the gangle of limbs into his lap. Hux glared at him questioningly, but didn’t comment. 

“What do you have, Elio?” the Marshall enquired, indulgently, as Helios stuck the tip of his tongue out and wrestled his little box open with a soft snap. 

“A pwetty stone!!” the boy gasped, holding the glinting item up with sticky fingers. 

Hux beckoned him over, inspecting it “A NECKLACE, Elio. A necklace with a pretty stone.”

He glanced over at the matching item in Sulla’s box, which the boy was turning over with careful, curious fingers. His jagged, but not sharp stone was a milky cream-gold, and Helios’ a regal and sonorous purple. 

“Matching necklaces.” The Marshall said, uncertainly “…they won’t strangle themselves on them will they?”

Ren shook his head: he had thought of that, of course “No. The metal is repellent. That’s impossible.”

The necklaces themselves were of silverite and gold, made with chains linked so smoothly and finely that it felt like the skin of a reptile when touched. Kylo reverently unhooked each necklace in turn, and settled them over his son’s plump necks. They hung perfectly: not so low as to be caught, not so high as to get in the way. 

The Supreme Leader hooked his arms around the twins and drew them into his arms, settling on Hux’ thighs in his lap “Boys. Listen. These stones are special. They are from something called a kyber crystal.” 

Armitage glanced at him, conspiratorially. Ren smirked “Do you remember Daddy’s laser sword?”

“Bzzzzzzzzzt! Bawow!” Helios mimicked, excitedly, palms flailing. They had watched him practise and spar often enough. From a safe distance.

“Yes, that.” Kylo nodded, considered taking his sabre out to show the children: Hux shot him a warning look “My lightsabre has crystals inside of them. When you’re old enough, I’m going to give you each a lightsabre made with the core stone that those ones came from.”

“Oooooh!” Sulla breathed, struggling and then barely grasping the concept. Pretty stone, shiny sword. Bazowwww. 

“Fank you, Daddy!” Helios beamed, throwing his arms around his Father’s neck. He hadn’t understood a word, but knew when to be grateful. 

“Want mine NOW!” Sulla pouted, sullenly, squirming down against his Mother’s warm belly. Hux stroked his hair from his forehead. 

The Supreme Leader, in all of his mighty wisdom, had predicted this. And had prepared well. He drew two small, utterly blunt, stout wooden practise swords from beneath the recliner beside the fire “No, Sully. Here. You’ll have these practice sabres for now.” 

Oddly, Sulla seemed more pleased with his glorified stick than the jewellery. Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

Armitage, his impatience showing, toyed with his own, slightly larger wooden box with deft fingers, eyeing the knight intently. Ren inclined his head, granting permission. Hux eagerly snapped it open-

“…a kyber crystal, too? Whatever for?!” he said, startled and not entirely ungrateful. This one was fully sized, a pale, complex green that fluctuated to grey, perfectly matching his eyes.

(Not that THAT had been a factor when Ren chose it. That had – merely – ugh).

He took Hux’ chin between his forefinger thumb and squeezed, firmly “You need to learn. So you can protect yourself better. And the children.” The Marshall went to protest, but Ren pushed his thumb against his lips, quieting him “I’ll teach you.”

He knew the Marshall could fence, of course. But fencing was not combat. 

“My own lightsabre?” Armitage ventured, sounding a little like the boy Ren had never truly met. 

“Yes.”

“That. I.” Hux turned the crystal over and over in his palms, eyes bright “What do the different colours mean?”

Ren exhaled and shifted his brood closer. Sulla squirmed out and began practising with his blade, swinging wildly and promptly toppling backwards onto his rear. He scrambled to his feet, pouting.

Kylo snorted, amused “They each have different predominant qualities.” He looked at Armitage “Green, is for precision and determination. Purple is for those who are serene and controlled.” 

He spread his broad palm over Helios’ warm head. The boy would sorely need that, in future. He was powerful. As powerful as he himself had been: perhaps moreso.

“Red, power. Blue is for thought and reason.” He watched Sulla swing again, determinedly, keeping his balance this time “And white is the most malleable. The easiest to wield.”

Helios snuggled against his Father’s firm bicep, swinging his legs playfully. He brightened, waving over at the doorway of the suite “Hewwo gain, bu lady Bey!”

Silence.

…she had spoken to Helios?

She had come into his home, uninvited. And spoken to his child. Poured poison in his soft ear. Spun dizzying lies in his mind. Oh…Hells. She was-

“Armitage.” He said, with uncommon, gentle insistence “Take the children outside to play. Now.”

The Marshall eyed him curiously, but stood with a graceless stretch of bone and lithe muscle. Settled Elio on his hip and caught Sulla’s flailing, spare hand as he passed. His sensitive son waved, sleepily, at the scavenger girl over Hux’ shoulder. Before nosing against his Mother’s pink neck and slipping his thumb into his mouth contentedly.

Kylo Ren’s heart HURT. 

“You spoke to my son.” He murmured, not looking at the girl. The world around him began to drain of colour and sense. 

“Ben-“ she stuttered, holding her palms up in pale surrender. 

“You spoke.” He stood, slowly “To my son.”

He reached out towards her, and curled his fingers into a fist. Her pupils blew, and she gagged. 

Reached, desperately, for her strangling throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: :D?
> 
> Kermit: gee, this would sure be a dickish place to leave them.
> 
> Evil Kermit: do it. The twins are too cute for them to ragequit on you now.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *throws chapter in the reader's lap and flees*

Ben remembered it all too well.

The whispers never stopped. It had begun before he even knew what the words meant. The soft, insipid cadence, creeping in his mind. It had felt warm, at first. Like a much longed-for friend, for little Ben had been friendless. Sullen and shy, he had been more likely to bite others than make nice.

He had lived amongst a forest of long, long legs and faceless heads. They never listened. Never minded him, but his Friend had. His friend who soothed him in the night while his Mother sat up late, again, married to her lurid blue screen. She’d loved that screen, loved the galaxy, more than him.

Kylo Ren would bring the entire galaxy to an end, for HIS sons.

Strange: he felt utterly calm. No, not calm. Balanced. The torrential rankness of his rage was countered perfectly by the fervency of his love for his children’s soft heads, pink hands, trusting eyes. Time had no meaning. Place, had no meaning. He could snap the girl’s neck where she stood. Wherever that was.

“You’re no better than Snoke.” He thundered, his world expanding to everything and then retreating, instantly, to an utter pinprick of focus.

He let the girl go.

Rey coughed, harshly, her eyes bloodshot, the indentations in her neck purpling. She was afraid. For the very first time, she feared him.

“YOU’RE no better than Snoke!” she cried out, hoarsely, and looked like she may well cry: not for pain, but for him. How pathetic “Is your future one you want for those sweet little things?! A world ruled by men like him?!”

The Supreme Leader glanced, lazily, over to the veranda.

Hux was eagerly explaining the mechanisms of the little animal-droids he and Ren had built for the boys, together. A small, hopping frog with shining blue skin and lifelike speckles. A miniature rodent with a nose that snuffled, realistically, when touched.

Sulla prodded the frog, gingerly, and yelped when it hopped towards him. He toppled back into his Mother’s lap, brandishing his new sword, growling. Armitage bit back a laugh, the militant slide of two white teeth flashing against his lower lip. His gaze was soft as gossamer.

Helios petted the mouse-droid gently, babbling a greeting.

…a man like him, indeed. A man like Ren. Loveless, now loving, now loved.

“You know nothing about him.” He said, coolly, not deigning the scavenger with a glance “Just as you knew nothing about me.”

Rey stalked boldly over to stand between the knight and his family “Do you love them?” she demanded, expression alight with determination, despite the telltale shake in her wiry frame.

“What kind of a question is that?” Kylo spat, disgusted, advancing upon her.

The girl’s eyebrows knitted together, her fingers balling into fists “If they’re really what you wanted, then aren’t they enough? Stop. Take your children, Hells, take your General too! Go live quietly somewhere in peace. Or join us.”

The Supreme Leader stared at her. Struck. He felt it, again. The call. The purity of her reached deep inside of him and tugged at something forlorn, forgotten-

“…Kylo?”

Armitage stood silhouetted against the daylight, one pale hand resting loosely against the shuddering door. Frowning.

Armitage, who accepted him. Armitage, who relished his ambitions, his flaws, his desires. Armitage who didn’t cultivate Ren for the Light or the Dark, but for him. Greedily, only for him.

The Marshall stalked straight through the girl’s pleading face, his features masking hers “What’s in Hells is so important that-”

He stopped mid-tirade, noting the knight’s bloodless pallor and quickening breath “You’re acting very peculiar. Are you sickening for something?”

Hux pushed a firm, bony, cool palm against Kylo’s forehead, scowling deeply as though affronted at the very IDEA that the man dared to be human. To be frail. He needed the knight strong, like a big, dumb oxen, the Marshall was thinking. Ren nosed against Armitage’ palm, inhaling the subtle bite of the scent on his skin.

Cool herbs and blood-sap, and expensive soaps.

He took Hux’wrists and pressed them together in an odd parody of prayer, before mouthing at the translucent insides, lips quivering with promise “We’ll build a world where they will never know fear.”

Armitage blinked, utterly lost “Come again?”

The Supreme Leader yanked him flush, burying his face in Hux’ neck. Squeezing hard. The Marshall hesitated before curling his arms round the knight’s shoulders, digging his nails in with awkward comfort. Exhaling, turning slowly limp. Kylo lifted his heavy head, dug his chin into Armitage’ shoulder.

Were the girl taller, he’d be nose to nose with her.

‘Trespass upon my family again: and I’ll kill you.’ He spoke, voicelessly, with deadly promise.

And instantly and easily expelled her from his home.

“Don’t be weird on the boy’s Lifeday.” The Marshall grumbled, yanking on a dank lock of the knight’s hair without true violence. The Supreme Leader drew back, replenished by the solidity of his fiancé against him. Hux grounded him. Hux called him back to himself.

“No.” he said, hoarsely, in agreement “Come.”

They wiled away the cycle with haphazard laziness, watching the boys chase their new toys and one another with rapidly strengthening legs. Their awkward shuffles had turned to a boisterous toddle-run, and Sulla had even taught himself to dive – although it was more of a tumble.

He practised by hiding behind corners and leaping out at his unfortunate, startled brother, tussling him to the ground.

“I’ll be leaving you.”

The Marshall blinked away the dregs of a doze and stared up at his not-Mother. The Admiral was stood over them both, smirking, her wiry hair tugged back into a customary neat bun at the crown of her head. She was dressed in her uniform once more.

Armitage scrambled to his feet as though jumping to attention: share a lingering, significant look, before nodding, saddened yet resigned “Yes. You’ve stayed too long already.”

Ren stood, also, summoning the boys with a soft nudge at Elio’s mind: the child grabbed his twin’s hand and dragged him over, curious.

Sloane smirked, the corners of her mouth wrinkling “I’ve developed a taste for Naboaan silk slippers. If I don’t go now I’ll turn native. Take up with some smooth-chested gondola boy.”

Hux shuddered deeply “And now I’ll spend a lifetime repressing that image.”

The Admiral cocked her hip and snorted “There may be snow on the roof, but the fire’s still burning in me, Armie-kins.”

…on second thought, Kylo couldn’t wait for her to leave.

“Poppets.” Armitage explained, carefully, cupping both of the boy’s heads as they gathered either side of him “Granny Rae has to leave us now.”

Helios’ mouth fell open “Whaaaaaa?!”

Sulla stomped his foot and protested, vehemently “NO! I fobids it!”

“Ganny Bae, why???” Helios wheedled, with impeccable timing, turning the full force of the patented Ben Solo Wibble on the Admiral’s stern face.

The Marshall hunkered down and stroked their forlorn cheeks soothingly “Don’t worry. She’ll come back to visit soon. Or we’ll go and see her, at her very important job in the sky.”

Helios wilted, eyes shining. He toddled over to his Grandmother and threw enthusiastic arms around her knees, squeezing “Kay…buh-bye, Ganny Bae.” He sniffled “I wub you.”

Rae’s sour veneer cracked under the pressure and she swept the snotty lump of a child into her arms, kissing his ear “See you soon, my little speckle of delight!” she turned sharp eyes on Sulla, who was half-hidden and sulking behind his Mother’s legs “And you, big boy, you gonna kiss me goodbye too?”

The child sniffed, and stuck his tongue out “Blech. No!”

Kylo frowned, consulting the boy’s aura. He was confused. He was hurt. He wondered if Granny Rae was leaving because he did something wrong. He wanted to be mean to her to show he didn’t CARE if she left!

Ren’s heart squeezed, painfully. He snatched his aggrieved son from the floor and rubbed his back, soothing “Sully. Say goodbye nicely.”

Sulla’s face crumpled. He fiddled, scowling shyly, with his Father’s hair before muttering “…bye-bye Ganny.” He scrubbed at his eyes, pleading “Don’ go way.”

The Admiral’s gaze softened. She scrubbed the child’s hair, wryly “Just like your Mama, you are, kid. Too proud.”

She and the Marshall embraced, firmly but briefly. Hux was sad to see her go, but also relieved that an officer he could trust would be returning to man the Order. He had neglected his fourth love for too long, now.

“Thank you, Rae.” He said, with sobriety “Safe travels. Good luck herding that harem of Order officers steering my fleet.”

Sloane flicked his nose, hard “Don’t put out too much or he’ll get bored of you. There’s barely any of you to go around as it is.”

While Hux spluttered in protest, she rounded on Kylo and yanked his ear, HARD “And YOU! Feth this up, and I feth YOU up.”

Ren swallowed, unthinkingly “Yes, ma’am.”

They stood together, watching the metallic flash of the Admiral’s ship flicker, FLASH, and then dissipate beyond the atmosphere of the planet. Armitage sighed, settled his temple against the Supreme Leader’s shoulder.

It felt strangely as though something had ended, and something else had just begun.

Many rotations later, when all of their lives had become even stranger than they already were, that night would be remembered as the night that It Started. Although in truth, the seeds had been sewn long before that.

Likely at the moment of the twin’s inception, in fact. At the moment when the universe had granted Helios a gift, and gifted Sulla with nothing.

But that night…that was the night when Kylo Ren knew that something may, one day, go deeply amiss with the boys. This was the night when their fragile peace was shattered, and never truly coalesced in quite the same way. Ever again.

It began mundanely enough: with datawork. The Marshall was wedded, as always, to his bureaucracy, labouring over designs and correspondences instead of having passionate sex with Kylo (as he should have been, in Ren’s opinion).

“This coronation of yours is a logistical nightmare.” Hux snapped, tossing yet another dented datapad at the far wall.

They were all gathered in the master bedroom, as was the evening custom. The boys, having drank a little too much coca-milk, were running wild, practising crude drills with their swords. Ren watched them, bored “…can’t you let your underlings take care of it?”

“No. They’ll get it wrong.” Armitage said, with cutting prissiness.

“I never knew you cared.” Ren replied, snatching the man’s wrist and yanking him back into the pile of bedclothes sprawled around them.

“If you look incompetent and foolish, so do I.” the Marshall protested, pale cheeks darkening with blood. He retrieved a waylaid datapad from the floor, and held it up “What do you think of this headpiece?”

In the Living Force, an uncomfortable ripple of warning crept into the Supreme Leader’s chest. He sat up, sharply, frowning. Hux frowned, murmuring “Kylo?”

The twin’s bout had spilled over into Armitage’ office, adjoined to the bedroom. It had soured, as their play sometimes did: Helios was tiring and grouchy, and fed up of his brother constantly getting the better of him.

The swords CLACKED, loudly “Boys.” Armitage called, sharply, standing “Less enthusiastic, please.”

The Supreme Leader surged to his feat, imminent threat howling at him through the living Force, singing of danger. It was right by the boys, growing nearer, closer –

Sulla brought his blade down, hard, on his twin’s pudgy hand. Helios yelped, eyes filling with angry tears, falling back on his plump behind. He glared at his brother, eyes darkening.

“SULLY.” Hux exclaimed, aghast “That is NOT nice! Don’t hit your brother!”

Helios, aura pulsating an ugly, crude SCARLET, balled his tiny fingers into fists. Incensed, he reached out and put his hands on his brother’s belly. And SHOVED.

Not only with the strength of his stout arms, but with the full momentum of his fledgling powers.

“Helios, NO!” Kylo heard his own voice cry out. A moment too late.

Sulla flew across the room and slammed into the edge of his Mother’s desk, before crumpling, his little body pale and limp, to the floor.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: NO IDEA how A03 managed to switch chapter 20 and chapter 19 around (?!?!?!) but here's the REAL chapter 20!

So this is what death feels like, the Supreme Leader thought.

Not his child’s. His own. For he was utterly certain that, in the excruciating silence of this moment – he ceased to be. His heart did not beat. His breath did not catch. No blood poured to or from his brain. He did not think. He became: fear.

Sheer, unadulterated, nauseating FEAR. He fell off the planet. Out of the planet, out of time, out of space. He was nothing.

The Marshall, planet-bound and deaf as he was to the torrent of feeling tearing the living Force asunder, leapt across the room in two short, sharp bounds, face bloodless “Oh, Gods. Oh Hells, oh no, no, no, no. Sulla!” his trembling fingers snatched at the stunned, still carcass of their baby “Sulla-“

The child made a terrible, hitching, gurgling sound. Drew a long, rattling breath: and HOWLED.

Kylo Ren had never heard a more beautiful, precious, precocious sound in his entire life.

The tension broke. The knight lunged for Helios as his sensitive son answered his brother’s wail with his own, the two of them bursting in unison into angry, pained, utterly confused tears. Armitage gathered their battered infant into his lap with impossible gentleness, cradling his head and catching his flailing limbs.

“Oh, my poor love. I am so sorry.” He cooed, tone crackling like a leaping flame. He probed Sulla’s miniature limbs with utmost care, and Ren consulted the maelstrom of his thoughts: no breaks, no breaks, thank the Gods, thank Hells, thank EVERYTHING.

Sulla threw his throbbing skull back and screamed louder, before gargling at the spike of agony this elicited behind his eyes. His cries tapered off to a lame whimper. His dark eyes were shining with tears and his face a terrible blend of ivory and puce.

For the first time in his little life, he seemed – cowed. Reduced. Humbled by the enormity of what had just happened to him.

Ren never wanted to see him thus EVER again.

Hux lifted their son against his chest and stroked the boy’s bruising spine, cupped his hot cheek “Come here, let Mummy see.”

A large, horribly precise gash was pouring blood from the baby’s right temple, cloying in his soft eyebrows. Sulla hiccoughed, shivering with shock. Armitage scrubbed the sash of scarlet away with his cuff, rocking the child very slightly “You’re alright, darling. Hush, now. Hush.”

Helios was sobbing, almost silently, his tiny body limp and shuddering like a bundle of rags and sticks in his Father’s arms. Kylo wrenched him close, turned the boy’s eyes from the carnage. His son squirmed, protesting, craning his neck to see.

“Ren. Medi-scanner.” The Marshall demanded, shortly, and the Supreme Leader immediately summoned it from the refresher unit. It flew in mid-air and landed, deftly, in Hux’ open palm.

Sulla winced and whimpered plaintively at the flashing lights and sharp beeps invading his eyes and ears, and Armitage kissed his head, soothing “I know, I know baby, it’ll be alright. Stay still for me.”

The Marshall lifted the handheld device mechanically up, down and around the boy’s miniature form, circling his skull both horizontally and vertically. The device squealed, primly, digesting the data.

Hux read the conclusions on the screen in a frantic murmur, eyes wide “Fractures: negative. Contusions: positive. Serrations: positive. Swelling: positive, upper left frontal cranium. Minimal.”

Ren slumped to the floor, knees caving beneath him. Huddled Helios’ shivering form closer. Good. That was good, very good.

Armitage exhaled, very slowly, breath stuttering in a diminishing chop-chop-chop in the cool air. He swept the pad of his thumb gently across Sulla’s swelling cheek “That was a very nasty bump, wasn’t it, poppet?”

The child stared up at his Mother with dull shock, his brown eyes hazy. His head lay like a heavy moon against Hux’ collar, and he looked like he wanted to sleep. Kylo’s heart squeezed, hard. No. Bad idea: terrible idea.

Armitage rose carefully, heading back to the bedroom: Kylo followed, lowering his ear to his fiancé’s lips as Hux conferred, quietly “He seems alright. But summon Lisse. Immediately.”

The Supreme Leader did so, with a few sharp jabs to Hux’ datapad lying forlorn and abandoned beside the bed. He stood very still: watched Armitage lay Sulla gently on their bed, in the tangle of warm sheets where his Father’s body had languished mere clics ago. Their son inhaled Ren’s smell and hiccoughed, again, squirming, calming minutely.

Ren swallowed. Every door and window in the villa slammed, abruptly, shut. Hux winced, shot the knight an accusatory look.

Rarely, Kylo croaked “…sorry.”

“Med kit.” The Marshall ordered, and the smooth, white plastic box flew into his hand from its former residence behind the desk. It popped open.

Hux exhaled, his mind whirling with his cadet field-medicine modules. He selected a few small items from the box “I’ll apply bacta and an ice-pack…” he muttered, feverishly, more to himself than to Ren “…but, I think this cut may need stitching.”

Kylo recalled the whirring of a thousand miniature teeth, dragging the skin of his own face across the pucker of his scars. After the fall of Starkiller. He shuddered.

Sulla whined, hoarsely, summoning an exhausted squirm from his pale trunk. Armitage kissed his belly and drew a soft blanket around him “Hush, Sully. Mummy has you. There, now…”

Satisfied that the Marshall had Sulla, Kylo turned his attention to the quivering, shock-stricken lump in his arms.

“Helios.” He said, jostling the boy softly: the infant was silent. He had buried his nose in a guilty squash against his Father’s chest. Ren sighed, and swept towards the door to the balcony “Come.”

Helios’ damp head shot up, and he protested, flapping his little claws back towards his brother’s prone form “Daddy NO! Suwwy-“

“Is alright. Mummy has him.” The Supreme Leader said, with faux confidence “Calm down.”

He was unsure if he was talking to himself or his son.

The night was blanketed high and thinly: not a single cloud darkening the sky, the pale tandem light of the planet’s three moons covering everything in a sheen of silver mist. The air had a bite of true Solstice to it. The warmth of harvest had passed on.

The knight paced up and down, slowly. Stroked his son’s hair and waited for his own shattered nerves to rekindle, and centre. He admired Hux’ calm, in this. He was certain that, alone, he would have been speechless. Or screaming.

Their jitters dulled in tandem. Eventually, Ren murmured “Helios. Look at me.”

This was the part he had no plan for. Han Solo had never done much more than toss the odd wink and cryptic entendre Ben’s way: he had no inkling how to…solve, this.

“Do you know what you did?” he began, tone low, but gentle.

His son’s eyes stung and shone anew, his expression crumpling forlornly “S-Sully has owie! I-I was MAD, an’-“

Helios knew WHAT had happened. How it had happened. But the consequences, the stark tandem of cause and effect – action and reaction – Sulla’s blood dripping in fat cloys to the floor. That was new.  
It had ripped the boy’s view of the world apart.

“Yes.” Kylo murmured, quiet “Listen to me. Sulla, and Mummy…” he frowned “They aren’t like us.”

The child sniffled thickly, blinking up at him with enormous, sad eyes. The Supreme Leader raised his spare palm, lifted a plant-pot that sat proud and stately in the corner of the balcony, aloft “They have no powers. Understand?”

Helios nodded, slowly, chewing on his lip with his blunt three teeth. He had already known. Had known since birth and before: had known from the very first awareness of the squirming, silent, hot blob of flesh that curled around his own, in the womb.

He knew he could sing and his brother could not. That was how he thought of it. Singing.

The knight chucked his son’s chin “We’re stronger. MUCH stronger. You have to be gentle with them.”

He had a sudden, sharp flash of his own leather clad hands, squeaking and black as pitch, purpling the pale skin of Hux’ neck beneath his fingers.

Helios would be different. He HAD to be. Ren would make it so.

He looked his child in the eye, soberly “It’s your job to protect them. When I cannot. Understand?”

The boy’s chest swelled hugely: he puffed out his cheeks, earnest, eager to redeem himself “Tec Sully. Tec Mummy.” He said. It was a promise. He sniffed, a dam breaking, a few cold tears rolling down his cheeks “I sowwy, Daddy!”

The knight tucked his son’s cold nose against his own neck “I know. I forgive you.” He inhaled, sharply “But this must never, ever happen again.”

“NO! No, no!” Helios exclaimed, sharply. Kylo believed him.

“Good boy.” He kissed the tip of Helios’ nose, wetly, and the child let out a very watery giggle.

Kylo stared into the face of his son. He and Armitage had made him: released him. And now, he was growing. Ben Solo had always known he had greatness in him. Knew he would leave his mark, a legacy never before seen upon the galaxy. He had not expected…

His sons felt like parts of himself. Cut from him. And when they hurt, that agony was like none he had ever felt.

The Supreme Leader swallowed, his face hot. His chest hurt “I love you. So much.” He licked his dry lips “How much?”

Helios spread his arms, shyly, parroting the familiar line “T’the moons an back?”

“Yes.” The knight said, emphatically “To the moons and stars and suns, and back.”

The doctor came presently and, for once, without complaint.

Lisse was in her night-gown, a fur coat, and a pair of sturdy military boots. Her sheet-white hair was in curlers and her face drawn and free of any cosmetics. She reminded the knight of a particularly ugly species of vulturite he’d seen lurking on the craggy mountains of Crait, waiting to feast on bones.

Sulla was still strangely listless and dopey. He suckled his Mother’s thumb with tired abandon, and only vaguely complained as the harpy poked and prodded him with her usual instruments. The lurid seal of his bacta bandage sloshed translucent and thick against his temple.

Ren worried.

“Head wounds bleed a lot. He’s fine.” The doctor concluded, tartly, nostrils flaring. She too, however, was relieved “Some nasty swelling and bruising, but no damage to the brain. Baby skulls are soft and malleable. It’s a blessing he isn’t any older.”

“Anything else?” the Supreme Leader demanded.

She nodded, turning to Armitage and instructing him “Be sure to watch him constantly over the next cycle for breathing problems, or fitting. Keep him hydrated, his body warm and his head cool. A lukewarm bath would be a good idea.”

The knight sat beside his fiancé and son on the bed, carding Sulla’s hair gently “He’s hurting. What about pain-stims?”

“It’s a risk. He’s very young.” She retrieved a small, shining green-glass bottle from her lapel “I’d recommend oxycodol. It’s a liquid, it’s gentler. Here. One cup every four clics.”

Ren nodded “Good.” He waved a hand, his wrist clicking, sharply “You do not remember coming here. Leave us.”

Struck numb, the medic turned serenely on her heel, and wandered mechanically towards the door.

The Supreme Leader summoned a flask of water, glasses, more blankets, and a few choice toys from across the villa. They paraded in swift succession, settling about the enclave of his family like servile minions. Armitage dug his bony shoulder against Ren’s chest, settling against him.

He finally allowed the crush of shock to consume his stunned mind, and shivered. Kylo leant down and caught the plush curl of the Marshall’s lips between his teeth, biting gently. It revived the man, a little.

Armitage watched Sulla’s miserable, sleepy face, frowning at the bacta bandage “If we use the knitting bots, I don’t think it’ll scar.”

The knight shook his head “Let it.”

“What!?” Hux snapped, aghast “In Palpatine’s scorched ashes’ name, Ren, WHY!”

Helios squirmed across the blankets to stare shyly at his brother, watchful and tense. Sulla wouldn’t look at him.

“For the same reason as this.” Kylo dragged his forefinger down the puckered, pale line spanning his forehead, cheek, jaw, neck “So Helios will never, ever forget. Nor Sulla.”  
Armitage stared at him with open distaste “That’s cruel.”

“It’ll protect them both.”

“I don’t like it. At all.”

“You have your own, no?”

The knight knew them all intimately. The cigarro ash-burns tempering Hux’ slender wrist, perfectly circular, brands from Brendol. The slash of his childhood belly-surgery. The twin slices in his lower back, from the twins. The Marshall huffed, dismissing him: turned to his sensitive son “Elio, baby. Come here.”

Given permission, Helios began sniffling gently, anew, and crawled into his Mother’s arms “I-I SO sowwy, Mummy!”

Hux kissed his head “I forgive you, my love. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Tec Mummy! Tec Sully!” Helios, declared, solemnly, looking to his Father. Ren nodded. Armitage shot his fiancé a quizzical look.

“Sulla.” He called, jostling the sulking, hurting boy “I want you to apologise to your brother for hitting his hand with your sword.”

For a long, stale clic, Ren was afraid his baby had lost the art of speech after his hard knock. Then, the boy’s nose wrinkled, and his expression turned to heartbreak “…sowwy, Elio.”

Sulla considered himself the elder. The commander. He had steered Helios wrong.

His twin’s lip quivered “I sowwy too, Sully!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around his brother’s neck and bestowing a sloppy, sweet peck on him “Kissy, kissy. Mwah!”

The Supreme Leader rested his head atop Hux’ warm hair. And closed his eyes. They were not good men: they did not deserve this second chance.

But he’d take it.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After the trauma of the last arc, a lil reprieve for you, my loyal, beloved readers!!!

Solstice season always came upon Naboo quickly, and lasted only a sixth of the rotation.

The Supreme Leader expected Armitage to fuss about the cold, but he didn’t. They were both well acquainted with the cool vacuum of space, of dull, canned air. And so with the high glistening suns and the intricate patterns of frost that clung to the villa windows came a strange, tentative sort of peace. 

That, and it was a Winter of Firsts for the boys.

Their first snow came thick and fast one morning: the lake froze clean across and the flora surrounding it became a forest of crystals. The boys squealed in delight, Sulla kicking the veranda doors wide open, DOVE into the tempting expanse of clean white STUFF-

-before squealing in surprise and retreating, night-suits damp, discovering what ‘freezing cold’ truly meant. Their parents tried in vain not to laugh at them: they failed. Sulla swiftly developed a sulky prejudice against the traitorous ‘white blankies,’ and had to be coaxed back out again with a warm cup of de-caf and several plush layers of furs, mittens and ember-boots. 

Ren sniffed the air, catching the metal tang of blood in it “Good for hunting season.” He murmured, to himself. 

“Oh?” the Marshall replied, fussing at the catches on the boy’s coats and tugging his own extravagant fur-lined hood up over the red rim of his exposed ears “Then we should go.”

The knight blinked, taken aback “You hunt? Really?”

Armitage sniffed, a hot plume of steaming breath pouring from his nostrils “Do you think we didn’t have Winter on Arkanis? I grew up in the conif forests, there. Shot game with my Grandfather’s rifle.”

Kylo traced his fiancé’s surface thoughts with possessive curiosity. Caught an impression of chapped lips and scabbing knuckles, the cool kiss of metal against a hollow, juvenile cheek. BAM. The sharp cry of some avian creature, and the fwump of feather and flesh dropping like a stone to the earth. Little Armitage ate well in Winter, left alone and neglected at his ancestral lodge while his Father vacated to the city. 

The knight wordlessly retrieved his sabre, bowcaster, Rylothian scimitar and some sort of slender, long-barrelled gun from the villa cellar. 

Sulla’s eyes brightened at the rattle and glisten of metal, and he stepped forward, eagerly. His Mother hooked his fingers in the boys hood and tugged him, firmly, back “Helios. Sulla.”

They both turned, cheeks pink, to look up at him. Cowed. Armitage bent down with a click of his knees and took their miniature shoulders “What Daddy is holding are weapons. They are NOT for children. Under no circumstances are you to touch them, or go near them.”

Helios nodded fervently, chewing at the seam of his mittens. Sulla grumbled, but nodded, kicking a nearby clump of snow, eliciting a powdery shower. 

“Ready?” the Marshall said, drawing himself up as though readying a platoon of Stormtroopers for a reconnaissance mission “Atten-SHUN!”

Kylo rolled his eyes to the heavens. Sulla saluted with a sober click of his heels. Helios giggled and waved. 

Hux jabbed an imperious, gloved hand towards the line of trees at the nearest shore of the lake. The Supreme Leader had already surveyed the ice: it was exceedingly thick, and showed no signs of thaw. It was safe to walk across. 

“Move out! Into the woods!” the Marshall barked. Helios grabbed his Mother’s hand and parroted, eagerly “Inna the woo! Inna the WOO!”

Sulla took his brother’s hand in his right and thrust a commanding palm out to his Father. The knight smirked, helplessly, and obliged his son. It struck him how much the twins had already grown, the plumpness around their ankles giving way to leanness and bone, their grips surer each day. 

They advanced: a strange, strung-out line of figures traversing the glistening expanse of the ice like dark pebbles skimming on clean glass. 

Sulla kept them amused with his favourite pastime: ‘what’s that.’

“Wha’s dat?” he declared, pointing at a rotting, blackened chunk of wood sat distended and awkward at the shoreline. 

“A tree stump, my love.” Hux supplied, enjoying the sting of cold air filling his lungs. 

“Wha’s DAT, Daddy?”the boy asked, swinging on the Supreme Leader’s arm, eying a cluster of pale violet plants swaying gently in the breeze. 

“Snow lilies. They tend to grow on graves.” Ren explained. Hux frowned at him. 

“Hmmmm.” Sulla said, sagely, pretending he knew what a grave was. Or a lily, for that matter. Kylo’s lips twitched. 

The children were thrilled to have escaped their afternoon lessons. It had become custom to allow four tetra-clics of play and two of study each day, now. Combat, reading, writing, building. Sulla was exceedingly dedicated to everything he was tasked with, while Helios tended to sneak a timely nap whenever his parent’s weren’t looking. 

“Mummy, I hungy!” Helios complained, presently, his round stomach gurgling. Ren set his pack and weapons down against a downed tree-trunk “Then we will begin with ice-fishing.”

The knight retrieved his sabre, and bade his family stand back. Armitage covered the children’s ears as the Supreme Leader bore a deep set of gashes into the ice, cutting an ugly but perfectly clean hole. He powered his sabre off. 

They squabbled over method.

First, Ren stunned a few passing fish with his powers, and snatched them by hand when they bobbed to the surface, heaving. Hux declared this cheating, and fashioned a set of extremely crude sticks with string from the nearby foliage: wrenched a few wriggling purple worm-mites from the soil. The knight sulked, but, at least both of the boys could engage, this way. 

Helios sat patient and peaceful on his Mother’s lap, watching for the bob of the end of the string, while the knight turned to gutting his prizes. 

Sulla quickly grew bored with fishing and turned his attention to his Father. Watched him, curious, as he slit the bellies of the fat, scaly creatures open, hooked his fingers in the guts, and tugged them free. The boy patted his own belly, thoughtful. 

The Supreme Leader summoned a torrential, but contained fire from a circle of ash and sulphur, and they watched the carcasses curl and turn crisp. 

“You’re skilled at this.” The Marshall commented, digging his uniform teeth into the pale pink flesh of the fish. 

Kylo swallowed, eyeing the glisten of fat and grease on Hux’ upper lip, cock jumping “I have undergone training in many environments.”

“At the Jedi’s bidding, or Snoke’s?”

“Both.”

Armitage hummed, returning to his meal. The twins hollered and whooped and made appreciative noises at the feast. Something primal and fundamental in Kylo Ren burst inside him: a heat, a warmth. Contentedness. 

They could not wander too far: the twin’s legs were too short for that. But the knight quickly identified a lingering flock of dew-fowl and salt-pheasant in the nearby trees, and they set up a crude shooting range against a crag of rocks. 

The Marshall went first: went down upon one knee, his body a firm slash of rigid lines, pivoting the butt of the gun on the nub of his bent elbow. 

He fired. There was a soft THWIP, and one of the furthest pheasants squeaked and fell lifeless in a soft snow bank. 

Ren shuddered. Something about the vacancy in Armitage’ pale green eyes and squeeze of his lean muscles was – intoxicating. 

The knight went next: but as he took aim, Hux tutted, and slid in behind the snug skin of leathers and furs at Ren’s back “You’re holding it wrong.” 

He slid his fingers around the Supreme Leader’s waist, pressing flush to his back, settling. He dug his chin into Kylo’s shoulder, nails skittering across the bones of his pelvis: before sliding up to cup his hands over Ren’s “Like this.” 

Armitage turned the hot scald of his lips and the flick of his tongue against the knight’s chilled ear “Breathe.” He murmured, sultry and smug “Be patient.”

He was hard against the small of Ren’s spine. 

Kylo’s entire body jolted when he fired. He missed. The flock, alerted, squawked and scattered. The knight growled and spun, grabbing Hux’ biceps, wrenching him close-

“Daddyyyyyyyyy!” Helios grumbled, plaintively, shifting from foot to foot “I gotta wee!”

“An I COLD.” Sulla added. 

The Marshall had the cruel audacity to WINK as he retreated, and Ren gaped “Ah, well. Retrieve that pheasant, mm? We can have it for dinner.”

The Supreme Leader STOMPED back across the ice, to the unending amusement of his progenies, who promptly decided to copy him. Following along like ducklings, stomping their little feet in their Father’s footsteps. The Marshall kept to the rear, idly plucking his kill: leaving a bloody trail of fine gossamer feathers in their wake. 

They decided upon stew. Ate it with a rich port-sauce and crumpled ebony mushrooms, with sugar-snap root. Their furs steamed beside the living suite fire, and Armitage supped mulled chalice-cider and read Imperial bedtime stories to the children. 

Kylo continued to sulk. 

“…and all the peoples of the planet Circadia bowed before the might of the Scarlet Knight, and they lived in peace ever after.” Hux finished, stroking Helios’ curling hair as the boy yawned, widely. 

The Marshall fixed him with a low, heated look, his teeth flashing in the reflected lick of the fire. He shifted his pale, bony knees, the velvet furl of his nightgown slipping sideways across his thigh. 

The Supreme Leader fetched, bathed, scrubbed, clothed, and put the twins to bed in possibly the most incredible display of efficiency he had ever managed in the entirety of his existence. He tugged the nursery door closed with a soft CLICK, be-beep, before leaping down the spiralling staircase and skidding back into the living suite. 

Hux ignored him. Swirled the last of his cider before tipping the brutal cusp of the tumbler to his lips, and drinking, slowly, throat bobbing. 

The knight snarled: leapt over the lip of the recliner and slammed his fiancé’s narrow shoulders against the giddy give of the cushions. Hux bounced, his lips quirking. Rolled his speckled shoulders, shedding the gown. 

Beneath it, he was utterly naked. Ren swallowed, mouth dry, lips wet. 

Armitage reached up and dug the cruel, neat curve of his nails into the knight’s marred right cheek “I like watching you cut things.”

Ren growled, coarse fingers gripping the bloody bob of flesh between Armitage’ legs, nails catching in the neat thatch of titian hair there. Hux arced his spine, languidly, exhaling: his small, convex belly thrummed and flushed scarlet “Even if you can’t shoot for sithspit.”

The knight jerked, viciously “YOU-!” he spluttered, as the Marshall smirked at him “That wasn’t-!”

Rarely, Armitage laughed: not snidely, not meaning to diminish. He laughed because he was amused. It was a strange, harsh sound. Bittersweet. It sat like citrus on the tongue, sweet and biting. 

The Marshall hooked his ankles around the Supreme Leader’s tailbone and dragged him closer “Shut up and kiss me, foolish boy.”

Kylo slid the open crook of his palm around Armitage’ long neck, fingers and thumbs twitching. He swallowed, wrenching at his own buckle “You will PAY for what you did.”

Hux leaned up and kissed the bridge of his nose, cheeks dimpling cruelly “Hells, I hope so.”

Their coupling was quiet. It had to be. 

Somehow, the suffocation of it made it – keener. More excruciating. The hot squeeze of Armitage’ velveteen insides was intolerable. Kylo bit his own lip clean open, snapped the wooden bow of the recliner sheer in two. Gritted his teeth as he split Hux’ legs so wide his hips creaked like a china doll, and his head tossed, feverishly, whacking against the edge of the head-lip. 

They fucked until Hux swore that the knight had curdled his guts, shuddered feverishly, and came hot and hard against Kylo’s heaving belly. 

They lay, sticky and conjoined and stiff. Ren picked at the disgusting crumbs of their spend, sticking to Armitage’ chest, as the room cooled their steaming skin. Eventually, the Marshall fell asleep in a heavy, sharp slump, Kylo still inside him. The knight hummed, bit hazily at Armitage’ ear, and pulled himself free. Armitage shivered, wincing in his dreamscape, at the burn. 

The Supreme Leader slid one arm beneath the pale slant of Hux’ knees and the other beneath his shoulders, and carried him to bed. 

He slept. Deep, dark, dreamless. At peace.

Of course, it couldn’t last: he was wrenched from slumber the sudden kick of Hux’ toes against his shins, the rustle of sheets. The pale, vague amber-silver light denoted pre-dawn, but barely. Something sour pinched the air, and a cool gust was left in his fiancé’s wake as the Marshall tumbled off the mattress and threw himself haphazardly into the refresher. 

The sick sound of gagging and retching dwindled across the space between them. 

Kylo winced, rousing his dumb senses, and was at the Marshall’s side in an instant, fingers encirlcling the caps of his shoulder “Hux?” 

The man was shivering, harshly. His skin was clammy and hot, his head bent over the refresher bowl, hair damp and cloying together in clumps.

Ren smoothed his palms down the nubs of Hux’ spine, insisting quietly “Armitage. What hurts?”

The Marshall sniffed and spat, viciously, tasting bile “Just my stomach.” He hesitated, running a thin wrist under his nose, smearing snot “Bad fish, perhaps.”

Kylo frowned, heart in his throat “…yes. Bad fish.”


	22. Chapter 22

The refresher stank of bile, acid and heat. Salt clung in the air and to Hux’ upper lip as he continued to retch, hard and dryly now, over the bowl. Kylo winced at his misery, slid his thumbs against the back of the Marshall’s stiff neck. Worked the stinging blend of muscle and bone there, gently. 

After an eternity, Armitage slumped back against him, boneless. Panting.

He crawled wordlessly to sit across the Supreme Leader’s thighs, his skin clammy and slick. Ren curled the cage of his arms around his fiancé and tugged him flush. He felt hollow, and sombre. His mind blank despite the chitter and scream of a myriad of unspoken thoughts crowding around them. 

“Well?” Hux said, hoarsely, eyes bloodshot and nose running. 

Kylo blinked “What?”

The Marshall dug his nails into the other man’s shoulder and growled, lowly, his brain alight with adrenaline “Get me the insem-kit. NOW.”

The knight licked his lips, his heart turning to stone. He slid a clumsy palm against Hux’ lower belly, kneading the soft give of skin there. Armitage’ sleep shirt had ridden up to expose the pale-pink, ragged scars that lined the small of his back. 

Ren summoned the insem-kit that the harpy had left them from the mirror unit above. Hux snatched it, fumbling with the white plastic buttons upon the sides of the device. He shoved it into his mouth and pushed his tongue against his cheek, jaw clenched. 

The device be-beeped, cheerfully. Hux nearly snapped it in two wrenching it from between his teeth. 

Silence.

“Negative.” Armitage exhaled, in a low whistle. He dropped the device without a word and curled his arms around the knight’s neck. The small plastique tube rolled mournfully away across the tiling, coming to a soft stop at the threshold of the room. 

The Supreme Leader reached incorporeal fingers inside of Hux’ lower back, searching. He could sense nothing. He – he had to be certain. 

He pursed his red lips. He was disappointed. But Armitage wasn’t “You’re relieved.” He stated, lowly. Unable to keep the cold sting of accusation from his tone. 

“Yes. Of course.” The Marshall said, lifting his heavy head to stare intently at Kylo. He traced the line of the man’s scar, frowning “Don’t be like that. It’s not…” 

He pondered for a moment, ordering the blur of his thoughts behind the sheen of fever “It’s hard enough keeping the boys safe as it is. And.” He shuddered, deeply. A peepshow of memories clawed across the surface of his mind: pain, sickness, confusion, loneliness.

“I’m not ready. Yet.” He said, shortly. Ren could only nod. 

“If you had been.” He growled, eyes narrowing, his paws tightening against the slick give of Hux’ skin “I would have protected all of us.”

Hux nodded, wearily “I know.”

Deeply dangerous, brutal, and sordid as the whole affair had been – Kylo had enjoyed Armitage being pregnant. Enjoyed enforcing his will upon the man and sprouting his legacies in Hux’ gut. His precious parasites. He’d loved to watch the Marshall swell, loved to track the burgeoning consciousness of the twins grow cycle upon cycle. 

Armitage had fought him tirelessly, then. It would be – good. To do it again, as they were now. 

Hux spoke , as though hearing the knight’s thoughts “One day. When the twins can protect themselves.” He allowed himself a moment of regret, wishing the children could remain infantile forever “I’ll miss this. Miss their innocence.”

Kylo nodded shortly, and the matter was settled. 

“You’re sick.” He stated, squeezing Armitage’ wrists hard.

“It would seem so.” The Marshall said, wryly, clearing his throat: were he not drenched in his own sweat, snot and saliva, you’d think he were at the command of the Finaliser once again “I’m sure it will pass. Help me.”

The knight scowled, dragging his fiancé to unstable feet “You should comm the doctor.”

“Nonsense.” Hux snapped, stepping into the hydro-unit and slamming the frosted-glass door closed “It’s nearly dawn. You fix breakfast. I’ll wake the boys.”

Ren stalked out, incensed. He was the Supreme Leader, Master of the Knights of Ren, and he would NOT be BOSSED by a delusional, sickly stick of a man with an ego problem. FINE. Let the man slip and fall and break his precious HEAD. Kylo no longer cared. 

The knight lit a blue hob-fire and slammed an enormous skillet on top, cracked six coral-eggs into the pan. Watched their pink yolks sizzle and bubble. He imagined cracking Armitage’ skull open and frying his brains. He rolled his shoulders, tension receding a little. He heard Hux wearily ascend the nursery staircase: the bustle of the twin’s voices soon filled the villa.

He was laying the plates when he heard something SHATTER. 

“DADDY!!!!”

He dropped the skillet and it fell to the floor with a CLANG, sending hot fountains of spitting oil skittering across the floor. 

Armitage was bent double in the very centre of the nursery, arms wrapped around his stomach and shuddering as though he’d been shot with a bowcaster. His face was twisted in agony and his breath rattled. Helios was patting his Mother’s cheeks, hysterical “Daddy, Daddy! Mummy fell!”

Sulla, rather more calm but pale as a spectre, prodded Hux’ drenched forehead gingerly “Mummy’s hot! Is he sick?!”

The knight skidded to his knees and took the Marshall’s shoulders: Hux wouldn’t look at him, couldn’t. His mind was awash with the wrack of pains squeezing his every muscle, with his stomach rolling inside out. His head was on FIRE. 

“Sulla. Listen to me. Go and fetch your Mother’s datapad. Call the doctor.” Kylo commanded, shortly. 

“Yethir.” His son replied in a high-pitched squeak, leaping to attention and scuttling from the room. 

Helios shifted from foot to foot, fretting, fiddling with the soft velvet of his sleep-suit. Ren hoped his sensitive son wouldn’t wonder why Sulla had been sent, and not him: but he was pretty certain Helios wouldn’t know how to unlock the pad, let along locate doctor Lisse’s image in the contacts section.

With Sulla, it was impossible to keep the child OUT of their tech. The boy was a menace. Thank Hells for that. 

“Armitage.” The knight growled, kicking a squeaking, scarlet frog-toy aside with his knee. He cupped the other man’s face and dragged it up “HUX. Look at me.”

Armitage winced “Oh, KARKING sithspit, Ren, it HURTS.”

The Supreme Leader sighed, and pushed his forehead hard against Hux’ “You arrogant bastard. Don’t be such a baby.”

Helios winced “Daddy, thassa bad word.”

Kylo cupped his gentle son’s head and kissed his ear “I’m sorry, treasure. Go check on your brother.”

There was no need: Sulla promptly returned, his neat bob for once utterly unseated on his head. He conducted a perfect Kylo Ren Skid and came to a halt in front of his Father’s nose “Daddy! The scary doctor lay-dee ith here!”

He held the datapad up, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration. The disgruntled woman stared up at him from the device, and snapped “Can’t you people go one cycle without melodrama?!” her nostrils flared “Symptoms?”

“Aches and pains. Nausea. Fever.” Ren supplied. Helios padded nervously over and stroked his Mother’s back with pudgy, tender fingers, worried. 

“What have you been doing recently?” Lisse demanded, accusing. 

“We went hunting yesterday.”

“Ah. Did you come into contact with water? Local wildlife? Fresh blood?”

“…”

The harpy smacked her forehead against her own open palm, aggravated “Have you NO sense of self-preservation, garcon stupide!”

Sulla puffed out his cheeks and stomped his foot, turning the pad around to glare beadily at the screen “Don’ yell at my DADDY, scawy lay-dee!”

“Daddy.” Helios interrupted, tugging on his Father’s sleeve with shining eyes “Is Mummy dying?”

“Highly unlikely, poppet.” The doctor’s tinny voice replied, somewhat cowed by Sulla’s tantrum “Did you consume anything?”

Kylo licked his lips “Angelica bluefins.”

Lisse nodded curtly, consulting her own medi-pad “…ah. Check the back of his neck and his navel? Do you see a scarlet rash?”

The knight tipped his fiance’s quivering, wrought body carefully forward, pushing the now overly-long hair at the nape of his neck back. A livid flush of uniform red dots coated the pale, milky skin there, raised and vivid. 

Helios gasped. Ren demanded “Yes. What does that mean?!”

“Mudpox. It’s a virus that lives in the guts of some species, particularly prevalent in cold climates.” The doctor stated, exhaling “Be calm. It’s very nasty, but rarely ever fatal. You’re lucky. It’s much harder on adults than it is on children.”

At that, Armitage jerked. His fingers snatched Kylo’s “…the boys…”

Ren set Hux on his haunches and draw his children in close “Elio. Sully. How do you feel?”

Helios chewed his lip, pondering “…tired? Hungy?”

Armitage snorted, taking deep, whooping breaths: Helios was ALWAYS tired and hungry. 

Sulla dropped the data-pad unceremoniously, and opened his mouth, guiltily. Snapped it shut, then opened it again “I didn’ eats the fishies, Daddy.”

Kylo stared. His sensitive son wouldn’t look up from his slippers. 

“What? Sulla, don’t lie to me. I saw you.” He said, affronted. His child had only yesterday told him how much he liked hunting and how good the meal had been!

Sulla sniffed, and admitted “I pee-tended.”

Kylo blinked “Why!”

“It smell funny.”

From the downed datapad, doctor Lisse laughed hawkishly “Smart boy.”

Sulla toed the datapad with scorn, puffing his chest up defensively “I has manners. Daddy would be sad if I didn’ like his fishies.”

The Supreme Leader scratched at his temple at his sons antics, and drew him to his chest, patting his ribs gently. He wasn’t angry: at least Sulla would not be sick. But he was a little perturbed that the boy had managed to deceive him. Even if it was for selfless reasons. 

“Elio?” he demanded. 

Helios plopped down beside his Mother’s knees, and Armitage stroked his head “I liked the fishies, they were vewwy nice!”

Sulla huffed “Stoopid! Now you gonna die like Mummy!”

His twin threw his arms up high and shrieked “Mummy IS dying!” before starting to wail. The Marshall drew him into a loose cuddle, mindful of his contagiousness, and shushed him. 

Hux, unhelpfully, muttered “I feel like I’m dying.”

The Supreme Leader scrubbed at his temples and wondered, not for the first time, how his existence had come to this “Nobody is dying! I COMMAND it!” he snatched the datapad up, his last hope for an end to the chaos “Lisse. Cure?”

The Arkanesian chuckled, harshly. The knight balked “None. Ride it out, as they say. Gentle soups and broths, keep him hydrated. There’s a soothing cream and stims for the pain in the medi-kit I left you.”

Kylo eyed his scowling fiancé, his weeping, doomed son, and his pouting, aggravated son, and felt his heart drop. He missed his knights “How long?”

“Three cycles, at the most. Comm me if he has breathing problems, or his temperature exceeds 31+.” She smirked “Or he dies.”

And promptly abandoned him, ending the call. 

The Supreme Leader intended to take a long, slow breath and feel very sorry for himself, when his null child pompously strode over and tugged on his sleeve “Daddy. I ready to HEP. Comman me!”

Armitage coughed, harshly, amused “At least somebody is ready and willing to take charge.”

The knight stood, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at his chosen partner “I need to make broth. Helios. Watch your Mother. Sulla. Vegetables from the pantry.”

Helios sweetly helped his Mother back to bed, fussing with the blankets and scrambling across the mattress to fetch water, a fresh shirt, anything and everything Hux asked for. It served to distract the Marshall from his pains, as he watched and listened to their child babble feverishly and rush about. 

“I tell Mummy a stowy!” the boy declared, once Armitage had finally settled. 

“That’s very nice, Elio.” The Marshall forced out, wincing: he stroked the toddler’s round cheek “Mummy’s little knight.”

The knight retreated to the sanctuary of the cantinette, where Sulla had somehow scrambled his way onto the counter: and was laying the vegetable out in uniform, neat piles. Ren sighed, retrieving the sad, congealing eggs and dropped skillet from the floor. 

“Beet-beans.” He murmured, once he’d wrestled a pot and herbed water onto the stove. 

Sulla dropped an armful into the steaming bowl “Bee-bee!”

“Saltpetre.”

“Salpeepa!” the boy parroted, sticking his miniature fist into the cotta container of lime-green crystals, and sprinkling them carefully. 

Kylo watched his son, amused “Do you like cooking, Sulla?”

Sulla nodded enthusiastically, settling against the length of his Father’s bicep, his feet swinging “Yeth. You can geddit right, or wong.”

Ren slid an arm around his son’s warm body “We should cook together, then.”

“Really, Daddy!?”

“Yes. Here. Help me stir.”

Sulla found it very difficult when Helios and Kylo retreated for their ‘magic lessons,’ as Hux had deemed them, and he was left behind. It would be good for he and the boy to have their own, special activity to do together. Even Ben Solo and his Father had had flying…

The Supreme Leader promptly cut that train of thought short. 

Hux, of course, continued to be utterly obstructive and insufferable. He sniffed, turning faintly green when Kylo and Sulla proudly presented their small bowls of sweet-smelling broth.

“Armitage. You need to eat.” Ren scolded, brooking No Argument. 

The Marshall threw a dramatic arm across his eyes “Never. Leave me here to suffer. I can’t take it.”

Ren opened his mouth, furious. But Sulla had already slammed his bowl down on the table beside the bed, scrambled across the mattress, and poked Hux very hard in the cheek “Mummy.” He said, in a warning tone that sounded disturbingly familiar “Daddy an I wok vewwy hard on dis soups and you will eat it!”

Armitage stared at him, utterly stunned. Then smiled, weakly “…yes, sir.”

The knight’s stomach rumbled. He was immensely famished, also. They sat in a crude circle on the bed, the twins slurping their soup with enthusiasm, Ren patiently if resentfully spooning small sips past the barrier of Hux’ pink lips and sharp teeth. Armitage allowed this. 

Just as peace seemed to descend, Sulla said “Elio’s gone gween, Daddy.”

Helios swiftly gagged and was violently sick on the priceless Twi’lekian silk sheets. Kylo sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What would a kidfic be without the classic family vomiting session?!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In which Hux and Ren discover that they may have accidentally fallen in love with their fiance when they weren't paying attention.

In some ways, the Supreme Leader was pleased Hux was sick.

Helios often clung to his Mother: never neglecting his Father, but it was clear who his preferred cuddle-companion was. As Armitage was out of commission, the child turned instead to Ren. He didn’t complain, but bore his fever and roiling stomach with quiet misery. 

Kylo washed his son’s miniature body gently in a lukewarm bath, pushing the soft scrub of his titian hair back and wiping the dregs of food and vomit diligently from his chest, before swaddling him in soft towelletes. 

Helios sniffled, shivering, and burrowed his face against his Father’s neck, radiating need. The knight sent reassuring waves of comfort, and felt his heart squeeze when his son settled in response. 

Sulla worked tirelessly. 

Despite the fact that the boy was often the fussier of their two sons, in this time of crisis, he conducted himself with militant precision. He fetched fresh ice-packs and replenished soup bowls, checked his twin’s temperature carefully once shown how to press the button on the thermo-meter and hold it in Helios’ ear, carefully. 

“Under thirty is good. Over thirty is bad.” Ren instructed, eying his child’s scrunched nose “What does a thirty look like, Sulla?”

The boy hummed like a droid “Line line line, DOT!” he drew the digits with a plump forefinger in mid-air.

Kylo kissed his head and returned to the ailing Marshall.

When Armitage grew sicker in the night, and had to be held bonelessly over the refresher bowl and even bathed himself, Sulla took full custody of his twin. 

He ordered Helios onto the recliner by the vanity in the master bedroom, and neatly stacked blankets on top of him. Fussed at pillows behind his brother’s damp head, and constantly monitored him. There was a quiet dignity about his attentions, a proud sense of purpose: Helios was his responsibility, his mission. 

When Helios groaned and squirmed in pain, Sulla kissed his forehead, nose and cheeks in quick succession, in a strange parody of what his Father often did to Hux. 

The Marshall’s pains gradually receded, and he dropped into a dark, dreamless sleep sometime in the early clics of the next cycle. Ren was exhausted: not in body, for he had driven and forced his corporeal form to remain vigilant for eternities, as part of his training. But in mind. This constant worry for his fiancé and son had drained him like a limp pustule.

As the suns rose, Kylo watched his eldest son sway and jerk on his stool, exhausted, his feet stinging. 

He swept over, and lifted the child into his arms “Sulla. I’m proud of you.”

Kylo’s son scrubbed his eyes furiously, bleary and bloodshot “Elio ith my lil bubba. I takes care of him.” He squirmed as Ren tugged his slippers from his feet “Cos I older an smartestest.”

The Supreme Leader settled Sulla beside his twin on the recliner, tugging the blankets over them both. In his sleep, Helios blew a bubble and immediately curled around his brother, snuffling against his cheek. 

“Yes, you are.” Ren murmured, stroking the soft clutch of their bodies for a moment. Before trudging over to the bed and dropping, fully clothed, beside Hux. Falling off of consciousness immediately. 

The first thing he became aware of was the scrape of blunt fingernails against his scalp. He murmured, lowly. His body ached. 

“Kylo.”

A hoarse, familiar voice. The fingertips, impossibly soft and smooth, slid down beside the knight’s ear, then lingered on the puckered scar marring his face. Ren groaned, stirring. Levered himself onto his elbow.

Armitage was awake: but bleary. His mind was laden in a thick haze of diminishing heat, and his usually whirring thoughts had been reduced to a dull, one dimensional hum. Right now, he was considering Kylo’s face: only his face. He was pondering why the scar looked as though it belonged there. 

“…come here.” The Marshall murmured, mouth dry and furry, as if some domestas vole had curled up and died there. 

Ren winced, summoned a tall tumbler of water. Held it to the chapped curl of Hux’ lips. The Marshall curled insistent fingers in the knight’s shirt, and he lumbered, obediently, closer. 

The windows were a little ajar: the cool creep of the Solstice cold curling languidly across the floor, eliciting goosebumps from the knight’s pale skin. It soothed Hux and Helios’ burning skin, but under the twin’s mound of blankets, Sulla shivered. Eyes locked on Armitage’ curious, pale green-grey ones, Ren waved a hand and another blanket crawled up over the recliner and settled across their children. 

The Marshall was remembering, again. 

Little Armitage was sick a lot, as a boy. He was never given medicines. A vision of Brendol, scarlet jowls quivering and yellowing teeth leering, declared that if his pathetic scrap of a bastard didn’t survive, so be it. He had no time for weaklings. 

The child would huddle beneath his thin sheets and cry, wordlessly, for he had no name to call for. Once, during a particularly ravaging bout of sea-shingles, he’d scratched the skin of his thighs so much he’d smeared blood on the already piss-stained sheets.

His Father had scrubbed the boy’s nose in it. 

Every window in the villa SHATTERED.

The Supreme Leader came back to himself, bent over his fiancé as though shielding him from some gargantuan foe. He exhaled, shakily, lips wet. Slumped back and drew the shattered shards of glass from their resting place, reforming the windows, with care. 

Hux blinked bemusedly up at him, translucent lashes dipping “Why do this?”

He meant this: a hand in Armitage’ hair, fingers scrubbing his back. Filling his belly with warm broths. Watchful eyes. Care. Pure, and simple. Maintenance. 

“You’re in pain.” Kylo replied, stiffly. Because it was the only answer he had. 

“You never cared before.” The Marshall said, without accusation. Neither of them had cared, before. 

They’d fought. They’d fucked. He’d possessed Hux, guarded him jealously like a treasure when he had carried the twins. That had felt – extremely different. To this foreign, strange co-dependency they now found themselves in. 

Kylo Ren was used to pain. He lived in near constant pain. But somehow – at some point – Armitage’ pain had become a thread in that rich fabric. Interwoven. Irretrievable. 

The knight’s cheeks burned “Don’t be coy, Hux. You know why. You’re my- fiancé.”

He stumbled over the word. Affianced. Betrothed. It meant something more, now, than the simple contract it had begun as. 

“I’ve never had this before.”Hux murmured, gesturing weakly to Ren, the villa, the twins: home, hearth, family “I’m afraid to lose it.”

The Supreme Leader felt the same.

“You won’t.” he growled, sternly, lacing their fingers. Hux’ were bony and slick with sweat. His own had a dozen burns and nicks, from mishaps with Sulla in the kitchen. The boy was terribly – enthusiastic. 

“I didn’t want to marry you.” Armitage stated, curtly, the seam of his lips pressed tight. 

A spike of agony lit the knight from the tail of his spine to the fine hairs at the crown of his head “I know.”

The Marshall unlaced their fingers and traced the long, crooked line of Kylo’s nose “I do, now.”

The knight’s cheeks split. It hurt, felt unnatural, stiff: but good, very good. Excellent, in fact “I know.”

Quiet descended. They simply watched one another, thoughtless. The Supreme Leader traced his thumbs back and force across Armitage’ knuckles, inhaling the stinging scent of the other man’s musk, enhanced by fever. Stewed Hux. He could consume that, easily. Helios snored, gently. 

“Once every planet is subjugated to us.” The Marshall pondered, sniffing “We should marry.”

Ren smirked “That’s better terms. More specific than before.”

They should return to the restaurant, again. Summon Harun, take the twins, too. They needed to experience more of the world, now. Not be closeted so. 

“Will it motivate you?” Hux murmured, pressing the affront of his teeth against the knight’s chin. 

“Kriff, yes.” Kylo said, lowly, eyes dark. Pushed his nose against the hollow of the Marshall’s smooth cheek. 

“Mummy? Are you kay now?”

Sulla was peering sleepily over the horizon of the mattress, eyes curious. The Supreme Leader lifted him beneath his armpits and slotted their sensitive son between the barricades of his parent’s bodies. 

Armitage smiled “I’m feeling a little better, my love. Thanks to you. And Daddy.”

The toddler nodded approvingly “Daddy is vewwy good.”

The Marshall fixed Ren with an intent, mollified look that made heat curl in the seat of Kylo’s stomach “He is.”

“Whassa marry?” Sulla enquired, yawning, scrubbing at his chestnut-amber eyes. 

Hux hesitated “It. It is a union, often a political arrangement, designed to-“

Their son stared at the Marshall with utter confusion. 

Armitage sighed, and tried again “…it’s when you promise to stay with the person you love the most in the galaxy forever.”

The knight smirked, greedily. Beneath the sheets, Hux kicked him hard in the shins. 

“Ohhhhh!” Sulla said brightly, nodding sagely before declaring “I’ll marry Elio, then.”

The Supreme Leader choked on his own breath, sputtering, ears turning scarlet. Armitage smiled, amused “I see.”

Recovery was slow but steady. Before long, Helios had brightened and returned eagerly to his drills, his storytelling, his arts and crafts. The knight and the Marshall kept a beady eye on Sulla, but he developed no sign of sickening. He was more robust than they gave him credit for. 

One brightening morning, as Sakura season crept nearer, Hux said over the rim of his caf mug “The local insurgents haven’t yet been brought to heel. It occurs to me, my love…” 

Kylo stared. The Marshall had never called him that, before: only the children. Hux stuck his nose in the air, continuing blithely “That we should move to the palace. For a little while. At least.”

The Supreme Leader nodded. Guided Sulla’s eager fingers as he worked at cracking an egg over a smooth, chrome bowl, and sprinkled a few choice herbs over the top “Impose our will?”

The Marshall nodded, aiding Helios in building a castle out of small, brightly coloured bricks on the cantinette island “Yes. Precisely.”

The villa seemed to sing with regret at the very concept. 

“We can always return here.” Armitage countered, looking to his fiancé for affirmation. 

Ren nodded “And we will. This is home.”

“Mummy?” Helios piped up, sticking his tongue out as he balanced a precarious scarlet brick atop the castle’s Eastern tower “…we going way???”

The Marshall stroked his son’s hair “Yes, but not forever, poppet. Mummy and Daddy own many houses, all over the galaxy. Big ones and small ones, everywhere.”

“Mummy and Daddy own EVERYFING.” Sulla clarified, proudly, peeling a citrus-clove with tiny nails “Or will!”

“Quite so, Sully!” Hux declared, teeth glinting, and Sulla returned his smirk. 

The knight swallowed a grin. Shielded his son’s eyes as he fired up the stove, sparks spitting. He held Sulla on his hip as the boy commanded him, declared when he thought the poro-bread was sufficiently toasted and the bantha-butter well cooled. 

Behind him, Armitage was admiring the ripple of Ren’s back and the cock of his pelvis with lustful appreciation. Kylo cleared his throat. 

“I have a new title for you.” He declared, turning to set four plates upon the island and drawing up a stool with a wave of his hand “Prime Minister.”

The Marshall stood up straight, staring at him “Naboo has a Prime Minister.”

The knight lifted his knife and slit his eggs and bog-hog bacon clean in two, pinkish yolk drooling across the spotless ceramic of the plate“Not for long.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Bit of a timeskip here! About half a year, so the twins are now two and a bit (in this verse, that's about 30 months).

The conquest of Barbarossa didn’t go quite according to plan.

This was partly because a) the Barbaros were a highly advanced species with cloaking technology. B) the planet was covered entirely in water, and so the ‘scorched earth’ policy had to be radically overturned into a ‘frozen earth’ policy. (The Marshall was not going to be pleased with the utility costs). 

And C) Ankh Ren had seduced the sons and daughters of the High Cardinal just when surrender negotiations were at their peak. All seventeen of his sons and daughters.

Conquest negotiations had now devolved into conquest intimidations. The entire High Council knelt, hunched over, some pissing, some screeching in rage. They would end the cycle either compliant or dead.

“Lisssten.” Ruming hissed, tossing her sheathed sabre irritably “Putting assside that my compatriot is a psasssk, can we get on with this?”

Beside her Ankh, sporting an enormous egg-swell on the crown of his skull, pouted and flushed a deeper shade of blue “How was I to know they were the Cardinal’s offspring?! To me they were nought but delectable nuggets of desire wrapped in-“

Ruming smacked him hard, directly to the previous injury. The knight howled plaintively “Oh! OH, the brutality. My darling Rumi. You do play ROUGH.”

The scarlet knight rounded on him “Issss everything about sex with you?!”

“Why is NOTHING about sex with you, my dear…?”

Harun yawned, hugely, jaw clicking: the Supreme Leader, head pounding, commanded “ENOUGH.”

The high, chrome walls echoed his decree back like a choir of deferential vultures. Kylo Ren rolled his enormous shoulders, and clicked his jaw. Winced as the act tugged at the hardening skin of the scar on his face. His hair had grown too long. It stuck in tendrils to his cheeks, chin. He yanked the snarls aside, viciously: stalked over to the High Cardinal.

The man blinked enormous violet, pupil-less eyes up at him. And feigned courage.

The Supreme Leader picked a stray crackle of dried, silver blood from his adversary’s shoulder “Listen.” He began, in a low tone filled with the dead and dying “It’s been a long cycle. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

Ankh sighed, wistful “Indeed! Our beloved Supreme has not gazed upon the sunny gospel of his children’s sweet faces, his wife’s diminutive but nonetheless pleasing arsecheeks, in so long!”

Ruming hit the man again “He’ssss not hisss wife yet, KRIFFSTER.”

Ren knelt down, crossed his legs. Exhaled, drawing patience from some unsprung well deep inside of him “I’d like to see my children soon.”

Harun wandered sleepily over, his soft slippers slapping against the cold metal of the floor: tugging a wide-eyed, trembling little Barbarossan child with him.

Kylo looked the child over. Just out of infancy, perhaps. She seemed dumb for her race, or perhaps that was the fear. He leered, rested a broad palm on her smooth head.

“I’m sure you’d all like to see your children soon, as well.” He murmured, yet every ear in the room turned at his word “No?”

The High Cardinal shook with terror and rage “MONSTER!”

The Supreme Leader laughed, a short, sharp bark “My fiancé tells me I’m more of a pragmatist.”

And so their business on this key planet at the expressway to the outer rim was concluded: but not quickly enough. It had taken three times as long as expected, and he had sworn – not under Blood Oath, but promised – that he wouldn’t miss the twin’s second Lifeday.

He’d failed. The shadow of his sleemo excuse for a Father loomed close.

Armitage was furious. ‘There’ll always be planets to conquer, but your sons are only two rotations old ONCE, Ren.’ He’d snarled, curtly, and shut off the holo-comm. The knight had heard nothing from him since. He had half a mind to wring his narrow, marbled neck when he returned. It was all well and good for the Marshall. Tucked away in his palace amongst his guards and his fruits and cured meats. 

He was doing this for THEM. He expected gratitude in return. 

“We approach Naboo, massster.” 

Kylo jolted sharply from his reverie. He was slumped in the co-pilot seat of their cruiser, in a half-doze. He hadn’t truly slept since they’d left: could barely do so, without the hard nub of Hux’ hips and bony ankles wriggling and tossing against his limbs throughout the night. His smell on the sheets…cool herbs, smoke, leather polish.

Obsession had become dependency. It was not a good thing.

“Isss all well?” Ruming asked, her deep-pink eyes flickering. 

The Supreme Leader stretched, hugely “Is it with you?”

His knight blinked hugely, feigning ignorance “What, massster?”

Ren fixed her with a dark, interrogatory stare “The dead nobles. The children.”

Ruming’s leather clad, six fingered hands tightened on the controls of the cruiser. Her face crumpled. But, Ren sensed an enduring control in her fury. She was the most deeply feeling of his knights: but with training, she had learnt to wield it. It was as much her weapon as her sabre. 

Ruming was the only knight who had come to Ren, rather than having to be found.

The youngest of a noble house in the inner rim planet of Fennu, her powers had been immense from a young age. Her temper utterly inconsolable. It seemed to run in her deep, the dark side. Her elder sister had said it was a consequence of her being conceived under a Blood Moon. She was a loving child, born with all her teeth.

But it didn’t take much.

Her family had kept her closeted and coddled at their estate in the country. They’d tried everything. Patience, understanding. Love. Acceptance. Letting her rage: locking her away. Nothing had worked. And then, her only brother and the youngest of her siblings, had been born.

The baby was favoured. The baby would NOT stop screaming. She was forgotten, she was overlooked. 

She told Kylo she had awoken, exhausted one morning, beneath the stars. Caked in blood. Her family was dead. 

“Oh.” The knight said, curling her thin tongue around her sharp teeth “Yesss, massster. Let the passst die. I killed mine long ago.”

They arrived unnoticed, thanks to the cannibalised cloaking technology taken from the Barbarossans. Ren allowed himself a tiny snatch of sleep while they landed: while the knights swept the docking bays and dispersed, quietly, about their given duties. 

And then he sensed them. His eyes flew open. 

His bones ached: his muscles were drenched in acid, the breathless crevice between his skin and clothes caked in sweat. But he was alive. Life returned to him as their aura’s and scents crept into his consciousness and itched beneath his skin like well-loved parasites. He shot out of his chair, snapping the restraints. Slipped, slidded to the hissing gangplank.

“DADDY!!!!”

The delighted little voice re-bounded off the warm, yellowing sandstone of the palace bay. Tiny feet pitter-pattered ferociously, and Ren blinked in the light, catching a flash of scarlet hair. 

A small body barrelled into his open arms. He wrenched his son close, pushed his nose into freshly-washed curls “Helios!”

His forlorn, scattered self returned to him: he was restored. Kylo cupped the back of his baby’s neck and held the boy as tight as was possible without bruising. The child giggled and squirmed, pushing up onto dangling tiptoes to press the tip of his nose against his Father’s. 

“Hello.” The Supreme Leader said, in a cracked, low voice “Have you been good?”

Helios nodded enthusiastically, brushing his lengthening fringe from his ears “Yes!”

“Have you watched over your Mother and brother?”

“Yes!”

“Have you been studying hard?”

The child bit his lip with loose teeth, sheepish “…..uhhhhhhmmmmmmmm…”

“Hmph. I think I have my answer.” Kylo lifted his son into his arms, settling him on his hip. He tried, and failed, not to note how much longer the child’s arms and legs had gotten: how his sweet, chubby face had begun to chisel out into a longer chin and more bulbous ears “Where’s Sulla?”

At the silverite door to the docking bay, a hunchbanked Cyarr Ren was tugging a reluctant little body over the threshold. The boy was silently and stubbornly resisting her, his face scrunched up, nose wrinkled, ears scarlet. The Supreme Leader was somewhat impressed with his physical strength. 

Eventually, they both stood at the bottom of the gangplank, Cyarr looking up at him with a mouthless smile filling her eyes. Sulla huddled behind her. 

‘The youngling is still furious with you, he says.’ Cyarr sent to him, managing to sound nonplussed even without speech. Helios perked up and glanced around, to the left, up, trying to work out where the voice was coming from.

The knight put his sensitive son down, and crouched before Sulla’s hidden form. Snagged a loose wrist and tugged him gently out from his hiding place “Sulla?” 

The child huffed: yanked his wrist free and folded his arms tightly against his chest in a stunning mockery of his Mother’s passive-aggressive stances. Kylo exhaled, chest burning “Sulla. Are you not pleased to see me?”

His son’s lower lip wobbled and his muscled went lax, before he tightened his grip on himself. Misery and resentment radiated from him like a leaking wound. 

Ren sighed, and said, softly “Are you still angry with me for leaving?”

Sulla nodded, shortly, tossing his chin: incensed, and hurting. 

He was dressed far more neatly than his brother: their styles were beginning to define themselves. Helios liked to run around without shoes with as much bare skin as he could. Sulla liked to be bottled up, covered. His hair was shorter than Helios’, whose own bowl-cut had begun to curl around his ears. 

Kylo’s shoulders slumped with sly, faux rejection “So you don’t want-“

Sulla immediately flew at him with clenched fists and shining eyes, throwing his arms around his Father’s neck and burying his damp face against Kylo’s hair. The Supreme Leader exhaled, chest caving. Curled his child closer. Sulla curled angry fingers in his Father’s soft hair, and yanked, reproachfully, before nuzzling it. 

“I’m sorry, treasure.” Ren murmured in the shell of his toddler’s ear, rocking him “I said I’d come back.”

The boy had been utterly inconsolable. He had screamed, tantrumed, broken toys. Stomped his foot. Cried endlessly. He could not understand why Kylo was leaving them, was certain he was being abandoned. Was convinced he had done something WRONG. Feared his Father would disappear ‘like Ganny Bae.’

“Sully been SULKING!” Helios groused, tugging on his Father’s sleeve. Ren tugged him against his other shoulder “All of the times!”

“Have NOT!” Sulla burst out, hoarsely, and Kylo was just relieved to hear his voice again. It sounded a little deeper. More clipped. 

“Have TOO!” Helios shot back, sticking his tongue out at his twin. 

The Supreme Leader sensed the gathering storm, and shut it down “Hush. Don’t spoil this.” 

They wriggled reproachfully, then stilled. The knight took a moment to inhale them, before standing with an abrupt click of the knee, lifting, tossing, and catching them both. Cue a round of giggles. Ah. At least that trick still worked. 

“Would a present or two cheer you…?” he said, innocently. The reaction was raucous and instant: well. Kylo Ren was not above bribing his children for their affection. 

(Kriff knows he had to bribe their Mother often enough). 

The knight waved a casual gloved palm: even Cyarr was bouncing on the balls of her feet, craning her neck to see what would emerge from the melodramatic smoke oozing from either side of the gangplank. Eventally, two small, smooth silver mini-hover cruisers emerged. 

Helios, the resident pilot, shrieked and jumped to the floor “THANK YOU DADDY I LOVE PEASANTS!!!”

Ren gritted out through his smirk “P-rrrr-esents, Elio.” 

Helios’ speech still wasn’t the best. He had to be tutored: it was a sore spot for him. 

“Purrrrresentsssss.” The boy said obligingly, circling and examining his cruiser with awe. They had a maximum speed brake installed, of course. Ren loved his twins. That didn’t mean he trusted them at the helm of anything. They were, after all, Skywalkers. 

“Issa Core-wee-an speeder?!” Helios concluded, star struck, lifting the front of the machine to peer at the intricate engine inside. 

“Want to try it?” the knight enquired, lightly. 

“Yes! Carr, come play!”

With his diminutive disciple occupying Helios, Ren turned to his null boy. Sulla was still quiet, still retired: still sandwiched to Kylo’s chest and toying with his long hair, tugging a few neat strands into some sort of intricate plait. It looked disturbingly like a padowan braid. 

“Sulla? Do you want to try yours?” he murmured, jiggling his son a little: the child shrugged. He was pleased with the gift, but “You want to stay with Daddy?”

His son’s answer was to bury his face selfishly in his Father’s neck again, squirming. Ren sighed, stroking the child’s bent back. Resolved to speak with Armitage about Sulla’s attachment issues. Not that he himself minded them, but – they were likely not good for him. A possessive fragment in the Supreme Leader loved it, of course. 

“Alright. Where’s your Mother?” Kylo enquired, his own mood souring at his fiance’s absence. 

Sulla squirmed back to sit in his Father’s arms, put his hands on his hips, scowled hugely, and wagged his finger: encapsulating the essence of his Mother perfectly. 

Ren sighed “Council, then.”


	25. Chapter 25

The Marshall was in full righteous fervour, as usual. 

His pale, ivory fingers blushed pink as his balled fist slammed into the circular marble table “NO, Counsellor Hroth, the restoration of kyber-power to the outlying cities cannot wait!” 

The elderly Nabooan winced, sour and plush in his velvets, and returned to his seat. 

Hux and Darjeeling had masterminded quite the reversal in the Order’s reputation. Ren had to admit, Armitage had a talent for subversive politics. The Marshall toiled relentlessly to win the favour of the classless Nabooan masses, taking advantage of the enormous wealth divide to gain popularity with the majority.

The old Nobilitas, or Nobs, as Hux crudely referred to them, didn’t like it one bit. 

Kylo swiftly covered Sulla’s ears as they approached, anticipating the curl of Hux’ lip and the flash of teeth correctly “Perhaps, Hroth, if you spent less time fucking your nubile young poolboys and more fulfilling your duties, you might just finish even one project on schedule.”

The Counsellor’s face burned. The assorted mass flinched as one as the Supreme Leader swept unabashed into the chamber without announcing himself. He hardly needed to.

The Marshall blinked, his aura spiking: his face was a distorted blend of many responses. Rage, resentment, relief, passion. Kylo liked that he was one of the only things in the known galaxy that could rile the cold, passionless creature that was Armitage Hux. 

The Supreme Leader stormed over to Hux’ ornate chair without pre-amble, set their son carefully on the adjacent marble, and wrenched his fiancé ruthlessly into an embrace.

Armitage’ bones creaked: he didn’t squirm. For a tic, he was still as carbonite and just as cool. Then he dug the barricade of his front teeth deep into Kylo’ lip until it bled, and suckled on it, viciously. 

The knight smirked: still angry, then. That was good. 

The old men and women shuffled uncomfortably in their seats with a whisper and jangle of silks, and Sulla glared at them all in turn, haughty. Kylo allowed the sanctuary of Hux’ presence to briefly overwhelm him: the scent of mint, the musk of his sweat, the press of his thick slick hair against Ren’s cheek. 

The Supreme Leader drew back, caught his fiancé’s chin between the vice of his thumb and forefinger “You’re wearing them.”

The Marshall rolled his eyes, neatly. The two long slips of metal with small orbs dangling on the ends swayed slightly at the knight tilted his chin. Before he left, he’d gifted Hux with a set of his Grandmother’s earrings. Knowing the significance, Armitage had only mildly complained that he wasn’t a consort and had no need of ‘frivolous jewellery.’

And yet: here he stood, wearing them.

“Did you pierce your ears?” Kylo enquired, curious. He would have preferred to have done so himself: sucked the prickle of blood from the wounds. 

The Marshall snorted “No, that’s barbaric. I had clips added to them.”

“Ah.” Ren replied, disappointed. 

“They’re utterly aggravating and ridiculous and a burden, much like you.” Hux concluded, ears burning. The Supreme Leader smirked, pleased. Armitage knew the significance of accepting tokens from him. And wearing them in public was a greater act even than that. 

Hux whirled on the bevy of squirming dignitaries and snarled “Why are you all still here?”

Counsellor Hroth shot to his feet, aggrieved “This is outrageous, Marshall! You cannot just-“

Abruptly, Sulla slammed his miniature boot into the marble beneath his feet, face white with indignation “My Mummy can do what he wants, old man!” he burst out, tinny and vicious “And you’d better shut up or my Daddy will cut your head off!”

Silence. Hux frowned. 

“Out.” He ordered the assembly. At the doors to the room, hand-picked Stormtroopers stood to attention with obvious threat. The crowd dispersed, swiftly.

The Marshall perched on the tabletop beside their son, and took his hands, speaking with casual intensity “Sulla, poppet…where did you hear that?”

The boy’s dark eyes flitted to his Father’s, then his Mother’s, then down. He fiddled idly with Hux’ engagement ring, prevaricating, before muttering eventually “…Elio saw it.”

Kylo felt a dank dread fill the barrel of his chest like tar.

He had hoped Sulla had heard of his deeds from some unruly noble children in the gardens. Not this. This was one of his pantheon of terrors, realised. Helios was deeply attuned to him through their bond, but – the idea that he could witness his Father’s present, or even future – even in dreams - 

“What?” Armitage exhaled, winded. His head whipped around to stare accusingly at Ren. 

“When he sleeps.” Sulla continued, emboldened, toying with Hux’ fingers against his own, splaying his palm into a star and curling it against his Mother’s lax, cool palm “He told me. Daddy cuts people’s heads off in his dreams.”

Sithspit. This was not good. 

“I see.” Hux said, with forced calm: he fixed their son’s skewed hair and lifted him down from the table “Sully, go and have lunch with Elio and Cyarr. Then we’ll spend the whole latter cycle together. How about that?”

Successfully distracted, the child looked up at his wayward Father with shining eyes “Can we go swimming, Daddy?!”

Armitage’ lips twitched and he said diplomatically “If Elio wants to as well.” He frowned “And we will discuss your little outburst in the chamber today, Sulla. What have I told you?”

The child scuffed his feet against the floor and muttered “To keep silent when adults are talking unless it’s an ee-merry-gency.”

“Very good. Off you trot now, my love.”

Sulla almost skipped away, humming some ancient Imperial tune that involved crashing the three moons of Nibellung III into the planet surface. 

The Supreme Leader eyed his fiancé, waiting. Hux ran a palm over his cut cheeks, mind racing. He was tired. His back was sore from sitting for so long “Helios keeps having nightmares. I expect you to resolve this immediately.”

Kylo took the hem of his gloves between his teeth and tugged them slowly free with a slick, damp pop “You know I will.” He splayed his coarse fingers against the span of Armitage’ trim waist, tracing his ribs. He was thinner, but not worryingly so. He’d still force feed the man, later “Come here.”

“No. I hate you.” The Marshall muttered ruefully, even as he sank his teeth into the give of skin beneath Kylo’s jaw. 

Ren’s eyebrow twitched, humourless “I missed you, too.”

He had. He needed Armitage. He’d become his equilibrium. 

The knight shuddered and growled, lowly, gripping Hux’ hips with a crushing grip and crowding him back against the smooth rim of the council table. The Marshall huffed, part amused, part affronted, as Kylo shoved a thick thigh between his fiancé’s legs “Here?!”

Ren’s cock jumped against the Marshall’s thrumming belly, eliciting a low groan “It’s immediate and sordid. Much to your liking, no?”

Armitage’ eyes darkened, briefly, some deception lingering behind his gaze. He slid his palms over the knight’s biceps and squeezed them, slowly, the muscles in his thighs jumping like a startled bront-horse “…maybe.”

The Supreme Leader drew back, scowling “What is it?”

Hux threw his shoulders back and drew himself taller, meeting his fiance’s gaze with brash defensiveness. He didn’t bother to close his mind: didn’t bother to speak. He winced as Ren probed the stutter of his memories with indelicate sweeps. Kicked the man in the shin, sharply, reproving “That kriffing HURT, you brute.”

The memory was hazy. Lisse. A cold table, a spike of terror, quashed. Trembling wrists, acid filling veins. Everything ached and ached and ached. 

“You had the surgery.” Kylo snarled, before his eyes flew open: he hadn’t been aware of closing them “I did not give you permission to do that.”

The Marshall shoved with aware with futile effort, lip curling “I don’t need your permission, REN, it’s my kriffing body!” he leant back against the table top, folding his arms across his stomach, shielding nothing “I didn’t want you lolling around, sniffling like a child.”

This was the opposite of the truth.

Armitage had been petrified to have the surgery: Ren knew this. He’d developed a sheer phobia of that table, the hum of machines, the all-consuming drag of sed-stims sending him tumbling into the abyss. The wretched, wretched loneliness. He had put it off, put it off, put it off again. 

When he’d realised he desperately wanted Kylo there when he would be put to sleep, and wake up, the stubborn man had decided to prove he could do it. Alone.

It was almost. Sweet. The knight dragged his nails through Hux’ perfect hair, disordering it. His poor Armitage. So pompous, so proud, so helpless. 

“Why now?” he said, carefully, his rage dissipating like a drained wound. 

“I.” Hux hesitated, mouth set in a bloodless, grim line “I don’t know.”

This was another fiction. But even the Marshall didn’t know that. The more Helios and Sulla strayed from his grasp, the more Armitage burned to swaddle them and drag them back inside of him. He feared their injury, feared their death. Needed to be able to replace them IMMEDIATELY, as he had replaced Starkiller. 

Fill an unfillable void, quench an unquenchable thirst. Ren would allow him this. It was – understandable. 

Kylo traced the shell of Hux’ ear carefully, toying with the earring: said with unique gentleness “How are you?”

Armitage unwound himself, slowly, like a creature ensconced in a shell thinking the predators gone “Good. Sore.”

The knight dragged him into his arms and splayed his palms across his fiancé’s back. He could sense the absence of the knotted scarring, feel the residue of chemical there. It was healing well, healing stronger. This was good. 

The Supreme Leader drew back and offered his elbow with half-sincere regality “Come. We won’t fight today.”

“Says you.” Hux muttered, but slipped his fingers automatically into the crook of the knight’s arm anyway. 

They walked in silence for a stretch: lost in mutual thought. Then, the Marshall said “The coronation is tomorrow. I hope you remembered.” 

…Sithspitting bantha poodoo in a Sarlac’s ASS.

The Marshall tutted “I glean from your stunned silence that you didn’t.”

“It’s High Season already?!” the Supreme Leader burst out, regal veneer thoroughly shattered.

“Indeed. Buy a calendar, Ren.” Hux said, snootily “In your absence, I’ve made the full arrangements.”

A sadistic gleam lurked in the man’s grey-green eyes. Ren swallowed a wince. Some hidden revenge was lurking in his future: he could feel the mild threat of it approaching. Most likely it would involve some grievous humiliation. Armitage could be startlingly creative when he was getting Kylo back for some imagined slight. 

Well. Seeing as the man was already incenced…“I need to speak with you about Nafi.”

The Marshall slammed to a halt and jolted as if he’d been shot by a bowcaster. Ren squeezed the back of his neck, soothing. 

“No, you do not.” Hux said, stiffly, and tried to squirm from his fiancé’s grip on his nape “You know perfectly well my position on the matter.”

The Supreme Leader scowled “She must be tried. It-“

“Kriff to your mystical LAWS and lore, Kylo, I want that woman DEAD!” the Marshall barked, aura alight with ire and bloodlust “And if you will not get it done, I’ll blow a hole through her skull myself!”

The knight swallowed, his cock jumping at the thought “That’s hot.”

Armitage went white, and whipped his open palm towards Ren’s bare cheek. The Supreme Leader snarled and snatched his wrist before the slap could run its course “Shut UP. How dare you make light of this-!” 

“Calm down.” Kylo interrupted, sliding his palms to grip the Marshall’s trembling biceps and holding him gently immobile “For the twin’s sake, I need to know what she saw. To make her – act the way she did. But she’s been silent.”

Armitage couldn’t understand. But he HAD to. The betrayal – it was if Kylo’s own hand had leapt to a blaster and aimed it as his children. He had to KNOW. This could not happen, again. 

The Marshall leaned in very close to the knight, nose to nose: his breath smelt like spice “I don’t care for mysticism and visions. I don’t give a kark if she thinks my children are the scourge of the galaxy. The galaxy can burn, then.” 

The Supreme Leader exhaled, stroking the smooth incline of Hux’ narrow shoulders “I agree.”

He did not care if Nafi’s vision was correct, or no. Armitage’ eyes flickered, pale “Then-“

“My knights. She was – is. Their sister. They deserve to judge her.”

They were one, they were all. To kill Nafi – it would cut and destroy a part of himself, a part of them, clean away. That wound would never heal. 

“They deserve nothing. Are they more your children than Sulla and Helios?!” Hux protested, mind spinning with rage and hurt and fear. 

“You know they’re not.” Kylo breathed, fervently, a spike of agony piercing his heart. 

The Marshall’s shoulders slumped: he exhaled, head bowed, and slammed is forehead against Ren’s collar, hard. As though trying to beat his will into the man’s chest. Ren held him “I want her DEAD.”

The knight licked his lips, and nodded “If she won’t relent, she will be.”

“If you will not do it, Kylo.” Armitage said, the Darkness engulfing his aura with sickly allure “Mark my words, I will.”

Kylo inhaled the sweet kiss of the Dark swirling about his lover, and nosed his temple “I love you.”

“That means nothing if you will not do what I want.” Hux replied, with brutal honesty “I won’t wait forever. I want her head on a plate at our wedding reception. Do you understand me?”

The Supreme Leader shuddered: catching the barely-veiled threat, the ultimatum “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a small note! I tend to go by the boy's accents in the movies when it comes to spelling in my narrative - so, in Kylo's POV, he uses Americanisms such as 'ass' instead of 'arse', etc. 
> 
> I swear I'm not schizophrenic.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WARNING! This chapter contains brief mentions of past dub/non-con (not Kylux) and sexual exploitation. If this is a trigger for you, please do skip this chapter. Be safe, my loves!

“Did you acquire them as I asked?”

The Supreme Leader knew it would not take long until Armitage would demand a project update of him, also. The man was a true menace. Kylo’s only comfort was that the Marshall knew full well the knight indulged him, rather than bowing to him. 

It irritated Hux, but, somehow, they had found even footing. Armitage demanded, Ren either chose to give him what he wanted, or didn’t. And the Marshall accepted this. 

In truth, he didn’t like to deny Hux things. Having power, receiving gifts…all this still tickled the neglected child that lived in the husk of the former General. Kylo enjoyed spoiling him, and why should he not? Hux would be his wife, one day. A man should spoil his wife.

The knight shuddered when he realised that sentiment had been learned from SOLO. Not that the karkster had ever truly lived by his own rule. 

The Supreme Leader led his fiancé into one of the secondary audience chambers of their apartments at the palace. The building itself was utterly enormous: arranged in a three-sided square in the style of the Puritanical Age, when order and lines was favoured by Nabooan architects. It was why Hux had chosen this particular palace as their primary one: it suited their aesthetic.

That, and of course, it was the most easily defensible. No hidden passageways or warrens beneath their feet for traitors and spies to hide in. 

And, the gardens were vast and serene. Filled with fountains, bloodberry-vines for making wines, an orchard for brewing. A herb and root garden that Sulla had fallen utterly in love with, spending many happy cycles eagerly cultivating vegetation from seed to leaf to flower. The Marshall was very pleased. It was good for Sulla to have a hobby that involved life, rather than death. 

“I had the rest of the creatures sent to your research facility.” Kylo clarified, sweeping over to the large, plastique cage that rested in the centre of the audience chamber, and crouching down beside it “But this is one I selected for you.”

The Marshall hunkered beside Ren on the balls of his feet, eyes alight: stared at the drowsy, lizard-like creature reclining on crude, branchlike-strut above a bed of curling leaves.

Kylo hated Ysalamiri: all of his Force-sensitive kind did. But the Marshall had been obsessed with them for some time. Even before their alliance had become fully realised. Hux took in the gleaming gloss on the creature’s ebony scales, the flecks of scarlet in its crown. It’s enormous, sickly yellow eyes “I’ve never seen a black one before! In records, that is.”

The knight nodded shortly and opened the cage “She’s large for her kind and unique. Very powerful.” The lizard eyed him with suspicion “Your nutrient shots worked, but none of them were very impressed with being removed from their tree.”

Armitage nodded eagerly “Thrawn convinced his by tricking them into thinking he was the tree, no? I believe that if I attach a similar nutrient pack and spray to my shoulders, and, also keep a barre and leash in our bedroom…I’ll be able to remove and replace it with ease.”

Kylo hummed “She hates me because I’m strong in the Force. She’ll like take to you. As a null.”

The Marshall extended a pale, bare palm, holding it out for the curious, dopey creature to sniff “We should breed two pups for the boys. They need a pet. They should learn responsibility.” He thought for a moment “Yes. Perfect. Then, Helios will have fewer nightmares. And not have to fret so about hurting Sulla by accident.”

That, had become a large problem. 

Helios refused to use his powers anywhere near his twin any longer. This was good, in some ways, as it irked Sulla to be reminded that he had none. But it was neither a healthy nor natural way to behave. Kylo recognised the pattern of his own child repeating itself with his son: shame, fear, the need to hide. It couldn’t continue. 

Hux stroked the creature’s crown neatly, rubbing at the sensitive spot between its eyes. The Ysalamiri crooned with a low cadence of clicks deep in its throat. It liked Armitage.

Ren immediately decided he hated the kriffing thing. 

“I will call you Geraldine, my ebony minion!” Armitage declared, preening.

Ren snorted “…Geraldine. Really.”

The Marshall glared at him fiercely “It means She who Conquers with a Spear, I’ll have you know! And, my first choice was Kylo Junior. You should be grateful.”

“Always grateful, my love.” The knight replied, with the Ben Solo sarcasm he loathed “What do you intend to do with the rest?”

“Experiment, of course.” Hux replied, rising to his feet with a soft click of sore knees “Can you imagine the possibilities of this creature who can inherently repel the Force? We can discover the very nature of sensitivity, and nullness. Think of the weaponry I can develop, Ren. I could amplify your powers-“

“Or dull them.” The knight said, darkly, eyes narrowing.

Armitage sighed, toying with the smooth metal ball hanging from his ear, rolling it between finger and thumb “I confess that originally that was my intention. But it’s no longer for you. I’d rather your little pack of knights not interrogate my every thought and feeling.” He scowled “Or General Organa. Or your scavenger rat.”

He was telling the truth. And so Kylo let the matter rest.

“Now: I have something to show YOU.” Hux purred, lips curling back to show his teeth. The knight resisted the urge to swallow.

“What.” He growled, as Armitage dragged him into his capacious office “Is this.”

Set upon an enormous, headless mannequin in the centre of the room, was the most ridiculous garment Ren had ever seen. Well. Perhaps that was an exaggeration. But it was ridiculous. Sweeping from collar to feet, it was constructed of white and cream silks with a centre plate (which, admittedly, looked like material armour) and ruffles. RUFFLES. Across the shoulders. 

“Your coronation gown, darling!” the Marshall trilled, smugly. 

“…no.” Ren said, darkly. 

“Oh, it’s too late to change it now.” Hux replied, dragging the reluctant scaffolding of his fiancé over to the offending outfit “There is method in the madness, Ren. Do you recall the triumph over the Trade Federation? By your Grandfather and Grandmother?”

Kylo blinked, derailed. Oh. OH! He licked his lips, and nodded, looking the garment over anew “Anakin Skywalker blew up the command ship. He was only nine years old.”

Hux nodded, fussing with the ruffles of the garment. They looked a little like feathers “Well. This is a masculine recreation of her garb at the celebration. Darjeeling says we’re…what was it. Following the narrative of Kylo Ren as triumphant victim, rebirth, a new beginning.”

It made sense. That didn’t mean the knight loathed it any less. But…it was Amidala’s. Some panels of the skirt were from her own dress: he could sense it.

“Lose that ridiculous fan. And it’s…acceptable.” He snapped, tearing the enormous headpiece from the mannequin “I hate white. It looks like a wedding dress.”

Armitage hummed blithely with faux innocence “Surely not.” 

Kylo hated him. Kylo hated everything.

The Marshall lifted the enormous drapery from its stand with a cacophony of rustling fabric. It looked like a spectral ghost “Try it on. It likely needs tailoring.”

The Supreme Leader muttered and grumbled as he tore his soiled cloak, tunic and leggings from his body like a second skin, demanding “What are you wearing?”

Armitage scowled, gesturing fiercely at another set of mannequins flanking the far wall like sentinels “I have to change costume four times. FOUR.” He tutted, pink lips curling “That psakking Wintourian seems to think it will gain us more coverage on the holo-net.”

Kylo grunted. 

Once fully clipped, threaded and wrangled into the garment, the Supreme Leader felt a little like he’d been encased in the corpse of a giant Arkanesian blue-swan. He grappled with the smooth periphery of skirts and wrenched them up “What are THESE?!”

Around the thick circle of his thighs were strapped silk bands, attached to stockings that reached to his knees. They were trimmed in ling-worm lace. Very, very frilly ling-worm lace. The ivory contrasted terribly with the downy, dark hairs spattering the knight’s skin. 

Hux blinked, dumbly, staring openly at what were evidently garters, cheeks reddening “…”

“Armitage.” The knight insisted, growling deeply “What are these?!”

The Marshall licked his lips and swallowed, his eyes darkening to an emerald squall “You look good like that.”

Ren blinked, the pulsation of lust cascading from the Marshall’s aura and through his body “Oh.”

Armitage was thinking about pushing Kylo’s chin up until his neck bones clicked. Tearing the lace aside with his teeth, marring the planes of the knight’s thighs with bruises. He was thinking about Ren’s stocking-laden toes curling in mid-air, wrenched over Hux’ shoulders.

The knight shuddered, deeply. His hardness pushed against the ridiculous strain of soft, white undergarments. At some point, Armitage had crowded close to him, taken his wrists “You’re very good to me.” He purred, lowly “Wearing this confetti like I asked. You should get a reward, for that.”

The Supreme Leader shivered.

The truth was, he liked the oblivion of surrender. It was easy. His entire existence was a war. Internal and external. With Hux, it always felt like he had taken his hands off the pilot controls, and set a course for the planet surface. And yet he never landed. Freefall. 

But they’d never done this, before.

“Yes.” He heard his own voice murmur, and it sounded a little like Ben Solo. But he didn’t care about that. His mind had become draped in fog. He didn’t have to care about anything. The Marshall would take care of that. 

Armitage took care of everything. 

He arranged the knight’s enormous limbs to tumble to the plush carpet, unhooked the myriad of fastenings with his teeth, shoved the swathes of fabric aside. Dug his nails into the crook around the knight’s hardness, stroked him. Kylo slammed his head back against the floor and keened, at the pleasure, at the slash of scarlet pain that assaulted his vision. 

Out of the mist, the Marshall’s voice cut through “Kylo, have you ever…?”

Ren blinked, vaguely “Been taken? Only in visions.”

Armitage froze, fingers stilling against the bow of the knight’s belly “What.”

The ceiling was broad and so, so blue. Like a relentless sky “It was part of my training.” Kylo’s mouth said, far away “My master – Snoke. Would construct. Visions.”

He was to learn to embrace the Dark. Encompass it. Be conquered by it to conquer. That had been the sentiment. He’d believed it, then, even as he’d felt sick. 

Hux’ voice was very, very calm and soothing, even as his hands shook “Was he in them?”

“No.” Ren squirmed, crawling back into himself, a little. His feet were cold “He. Observed.”

The Marshall was slender. But his arms felt long and strong around the knight’s shoulders, the fingers that dug into the back of his neck firm. Kylo blinked, and he was bent against Armitage’ hollow chest, smelling the spice of him. His chest was bare, and Hux was tracing the lines of it, gently. The man was very, very hot. Like a furnace.

“Alright.” He muttered feverishly to himself, his lips against Ren’s hair: he was furious, trembling with rage “Alright. Kriff. I wish I could resurrect the nerfquim.” He squeezed the balustrades of the Supreme Leader’s limbs “Come here.”

They sat crumpled together in the centre of the floor for a long time: a spell broken. Kylo felt stunned, he felt drowsy. He felt as though some great transgression had been admitted that he didn’t fully understand. He couldn’t make sense of his fiancés thoughts, they ran so fast, so hard. But.

Hux had him. Hux would take care of everything, like he always did. 

“You’re tired.” The Marshall said, eventually, tugging the snarls of sticky hair from the knight’s temple “Let’s get you out of this.”

They left the coronation garment in a mess on the floor for the servants and droids to reconstruct, and Armitage led him, perfectly naked, through the discreet passages of the palace to their bedroom. It was huge, filled with intimate, but sparse touches: Hux’ ever present vanity, a chest for the twin’s toys. A comfortable, opulent rug, a drinking cabinet: writing desk. 

The Marshall fussed Kylo under the sheets and the knight protested, vaguely “It’s early.”

“Don’t argue with me, Ren.” Hux returned, kissing his forehead. 

The door creaked, and a soft patter of footsteps infiltrated the calm “Mummy? Is Daddy okay?”

Helios sounded like he was about to cry. Stood to attention beside the bed as though attending a vigil, Sulla threw an imperious arm around his trembling brother’s shoulders, comforting him and clarifying “Elio said he sensed pain!” 

Hux drew them both into his arms and kissed them “Mostly, my loves. Daddy isn’t feeling well. Come cheer him up.”

Sulla brightened and clapped his hands together “I know! The play!”

Helios gasped, threw his fist into the air “Yes!!!”

“Play, poppets?” Armitage questioned, a little unconvinced. 

The children dragged various props into the centre of the room: Sulla stole his Mother’s vanity stool and climbed on top of it, brandishing his wooden practice sword into the air with aplomb “The tale of the tragedy of An-ee-kin Skywalker! The final act! Showdown on Mustyfar!”

Hux bit his lip to swallow a smirk. 

“Mustafar.” Ren corrected, muzzily. Armitage kicked his shin beneath the covers, smiling blithely "Just keep calm and smile, Kylo."

"... this is factually inaccurate." The Supreme Leader grumbled, eminently sensitive about any tales involving his Grandfather. 

The Marshall hummed and fixed him with an indulgent, vindictive smile "I swear by every deity imaginable, Ren, if you ruin this for them I will cut your dick off with a blunt cheese knife."

What followed was an. INTERESTING. Rendition of the events leading Anakin Skywalker to become the infamous denizen of the Empire, known to all. 

“Bow to the might of the Jedi soup-remacy, Skywalker! Or else I’ll cut your legs off!” Sulla crowed enthusiastically, wearing a towel over his head and sporting a fake moustache constructed from an old hairbrush in his performance as Obi Wan Kenobi, the villain of the piece. 

“Never!!!” Helios keened, squirming on the floor with a dramatic hand held to his forehead. 

Sulla hopped neatly down from the stool and waved the stick over his brother’s prone form “Bzzzzzt, sheoooooow!”

“AAAAAAAAAAH!” Helios wailed, flailing his limbs enthusiastically. 

“And now I will leave you to die in agonies!” their sensitive son said, maniacally, twirling his moustache (which promptly fell off). 

“You meanie, Obi Bon Jovi!” Helios grumbled, pouting. He promptly jumped to his feet and put a spray-painted black cleaning bucket on his head. 

“And then he became Darth Vader, the end!” Sulla declared, proudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I've always found Snoke's seduction of Ben Solo to the Dark side extremely problematic. I'm not a Kylo Ren apologist, he's done TERRIBLE things. But - how can what Snoke did, whispering to the boy from childhood, be construed as anything other than a form of grooming? And the way it's handled is very suspect. Leia and Han claiming not to have known/noticed, some of the wording Kylo uses - 'I'm being torn apart.' Hm. 
> 
> I tried to find out how old Ben was when he left Luke, and Wookiepedia just says 'late teens', so whether or not this was exploitation of a minor is up for debate. But I think, either way, Ben was immensely vulnerable and Snoke is a sadistic bastard. 
> 
> I wanted to address it in this fic, even in passing. Poor Kylo needs therapy and a lot of love.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some more (very brief) allusions to Snoke's perverted fucked-uppery, so watch out, my loves!

The voice returned. It always did.

It never truly went away. It crept in his blood like dormant poison. Writhed in pools at the base of his skull and the veins at his temples. It was relentless, it dripped, and dripped, and dripped. The boy would thrash and bash his head against the walls of his bedroom, draw blood. Til his Mother came and wrapped his skull in pillows and held him close.

Whispered to him. But he couldn’t hear her. There was only the voice. 

The Force lived outside of time: his former master was of the Force, and so was he, and so, Snoke never truly left him. He still sat, broiling and coiling in his belly, the memory of his cold, incorporeal fingers tugging at every shred of him. 

The trials had been the worst. 

Lithe, faceless figures with heavy breasts that sat like sagging meat, tall brutish figures with probing fingers. He was pushed, he was torn, it was hot, it was wonderful, it was terrible. He’d open his mouth to howl but he had no VOICE, and always, always there was his master, watching. That same passionless smile curling his lips. 

My little Ren.

In his dream, he burst: become a flock of screeching birds, of fragments, flying outwards and up, up UP-

“REN.”

The Supreme Leader awoke with a start, hard and leaking dolefully against the mattress, bent over like a creature possessed. He gasped, soft, sobbing noises, rubbed tremulously against the cool slide of the sheets. White hands were tapping gently at his hair, at his sides: flitting, like wings. 

“Kylo? You ridiculous BRUTE. What in karking hells was that?!”

Hux’ eyes were canvas of sea and storming skies, the type that raged on Corellia during the Winter. The waves dyed seafoam emerald with moss. The knight reached for it. Water was cool. Armitage was cool “I- I need.”

He could drown, happily, there. 

The Marshall cleared his throat, dragged the titian slash of crimson back from his temples “Need? Need what? Pain stims? Water?”

“YES.” Kylo growled, lowly, his cock hot and heavy and unbearably sore. He felt empty, he felt full. He wanted possession, needed it. Water would wash the poison away “Water, yes, fill me, please.”

Hux’ translucent eyelashes dipped briefly to the tacky mess staining his knees, then peered into the knight’s wrecked, red face, concerned and unseated “You want…”

“I need. You. Yes, please.” Ren said, in a voice that cracked and dipped like his throat had been cut. Like an adolescent. He grabbed the Marshall by his slender shoulders with clumsy paws and kissed him, sloppily.

Armitage’ eyes flashed dark, and he snarled his fingers in the knight’s hair and yanked, without true violence “Oh, no. If we’re doing this, you don’t get to be in control.”

The Supreme Leader shuddered, deeply. Exhaled, chest dipping. His cock throbbed. Yes. Oblivion. No more thinking, no more listening. 

Hux sighed, bemused, and traced the length of Kylo’s scar with the blunt crescent of his fingertip “Silly boy.” He murmured, then pushed the knight back with a firm shove “Let me take care of you, then.”

It was. Odd.

The knight felt he was being unspooled like a length of long, fine thread. Hux’ tongue was hot and sharp between his legs, darting like a curious fish. He pulled at him, as Snoke had, but it was – real. Taking ground as the knight relinquished it and crawling closer between his legs.

His fingers were DEFINITELY real. Long and slender and bony, and delicious when they hooked. Kylo saw stars, a trillion bursts of them. Armitage’ nails scraped at his insides til he felt clean and raw. 

“Hands and knees, Kylo.” The Marshall murmured, biting the tender flesh beneath the knight’s jaw. Ren shook like a collapsing monument, and Hux stroked his flank like he was soothing a startled beast. 

Armitage was long. Ren knew this, still. It BURNED. But, it – it felt good. The Marshall grunted softly against the back of Kylo’s bulbous ears, his smell encompassing the knight “Kriff-! You’re tight, for a big boy.”

Ren squirmed, curling his teeth around his won wrist, bearing back “M-more.”

“More, please.” Armitage scolded, biting the back of the knight’s neck slowly. 

“More, please, Hux.” Kylo groaned, shoving his forehead against the mattress “Harder.”

Oblivion came suddenly after a long, excruciating crescendo of skin slapping against skin. Hux kept squeezing and squeezing him when he got close, and Ren soon became nothing but a mound of feverish flesh and drool and noise. 

Armitage made a soft, sharp noise when he came hot and hard inside of him. Tugged Kylo over the edge with militant precision, and mopped at him after, boneless. 

“…better?” the Marshall mumbled, licking at the cloying blood on his lower lip where Ren bit him. 

“Mmmmph.” The knight managed, nose squashed against Hux’ soft belly “Armitage?”

“WHAT. Let me SLEEP.”

“You’re so old.”

“Shut UP.”

Silence. The Supreme Leader blinked. OH! Silence. Not total, not complete. But the echo of the voice was far away, now. As though suspended behind a thick waterfall, a torrent of rushing, relentless water. 

“Thank you.” He mouthed, lips a warm, dry brand against the Marshall’s skin. 

As he dropped like a stone out of his body, he felt nails scrape against his scalp and a resigned voice murmur “You’re welcome. I suppose.”

The morning of the coronation dawned overbright. And LOUDLY.

“We made BEKFAST!!!” 

Helios’ bright voice pierced the fog of sleep like an alarm siren. Beside him, Hux groaned as Sulla leapt deftly onto the bed and began bouncing up and down on the mattress, jostling his Mother. The Supreme Leader scrubbed sleep from his eyes, caught the boy round the middle and lifted him, nosing his stomach. Sulla squealed.

Helios tottered carefully over to the bedside unit and set a wobbly tray down “Weeell. Sully made bekfast and I helped.” He confessed, shyly.

Armitage yawned and stroked the child’s soft cheek “Breakfast, poppet.” He corrected, gently, before planting a kiss on his forehead “And my, what a wonderful surprise!”

Helios giggled, pointing a chubby finger at the various items on the tray “Puceberry pancake. Mummy’s dee-sgusting tea, and caffy.” 

The Marshall grumbled that his tea was NOT disgusting, to an absolute barrage of disagreement from all others present. The man promptly sulked, but tucked into the pancakes with enthusiasm nonetheless. Sulla began neatly cutting his into small squares, and feeding the bites imperiously to his twin. 

Helios swallowed, lips sticky “You look diffy-rent this morning, Daddy!”

The Supreme Leader blinked blearily through the steam rising from his caf “Really?”

He felt different. Undone, pulverised. And yet, better. He still ached, still hurt, deeply. But the pains were muted now, the roar also. 

“Yes!” his sensitive son declared, pressing his lips together and crawling forward, peering into his Father’s slack face “Hmmmmmmm…like.”

He flailed and wiggled his arms like a loose snake, trying desperately to convey his thoughts into words. 

“Like you slept for once.” Sulla said, neatly, taking a smug sip of his di-caf with an uncanny resemblance to his Mother. 

“SULLY.” Armitage admonished, sharply “What are we doing this cycle?”

Sulla groaned, downed his caf and threw himself melodramatically onto his back “Putting our polite voices on for the holo-cam-ee-ras.”

“Quite so.” The Marshall returned, shortly, carding the boy’s hair. 

Beyond the distant confines of the palace, there came a faint roar of crowds, the battering of pavilions being erected, the sparse explosions of blossom being scattered. Darjeeling had arranged quite the lavish affair: but muted, also. The Marshall claimed decadence was an unseemly thing: it would be clear from their clothes and their residence that they had wealth.

The rest was purely lip service. 

Armitage flipped their holo-mount to the primary galactic channel while they prepared: tailoring droids fussing at Ren’s gowns and the boys steadfastly avoiding getting into their little suits. 

“-nd so the countdown to the most highly anticipated event since Princess Tribresta’s divorce on Tartarus IX, begins!” the simpering tones of T’emzee Kodak gushed from the holo “And I have the simply delectable Darjeeling Ti right here to tell all! So, Darjeeling, who will the Supreme Leader be wearing?!”

“I know who was wearing the Supreme Leader last NIGHT.” Armitage spat, in a rare moment of jealousy: Kylo flushed “You’d think the entire galaxy ran on threads.” 

The Marshall dragged on a long ebony jacket with gold brocade. Kylo eyed him jealousy from his puff of skirts. 

“I wanna do Daddy’s hair.” Sulla declared, appearing from nowhere in his black and gold waistcoat and shining crimson boots. Helios was currently struggling with buttons. 

Hux hummed, fixing his own hair “Can you do a Sarmatian plait, Sully?”

“I been practising!”

“Well, go on then.”

The child hopped up onto the bed and ordered his Father to sit so he could reach: the knight enjoyed the steady if awkward part of pudgy fingers in his hair, Sulla’s wide-toothed comb tugging the snarls from crown to nape.

“Were you and Mummy making another baby last night?” the child enquired brightly. 

The Marshall choked on his sip of caf “What-!” hastily dabbed the spills from his lapel “What do you mean by THAT, Sulla?”

The boy hummed innocently, clipping small unauthorised silver beads into his Father’s hair as he constructed the second plait “You were doing the bedroom dance. I heard you. Ganny Bae said it’s like a special fun cuddle only parents do.”

The Marshall stomped over and tugged gently on their son’s bulbous ears “These are too curious for their own good!”

He then showered the boy’s face in kisses: Sulla howled at such punishment “Mummyyyyyyyyy! No!!! My DIG-NEE-TY!”

It was to be the very first time the boys made a public appearance. Armitage had been thoroughly against the idea: but the knight was adamant. They would be safest at their parent’s sides. A whisper of a thousand threats had been caressing the Supreme Leader’s mind since he awoke. There was as many malicious minds in the crowds as there were fawning ones. 

The ceremony itself was immensely impressive: but short.

The Supreme Leader ascended the steps before the capitol building, as his Grandmother once had. He inhaled the soft stench of rotting Summer fruit, the whistle of banners and kites in the air. Tried to feel what she had felt. Trepidation, most likely. She had ruled young. But Ren was ready. This was his birthright.

He had always known. His place was above this sea of upturned faces, looking down. 

Armitage, as newly appointed Prime Minister, handed him the ridiculous glowing plasma ball that was the symbol of majesty, peace and rule upon Naboo. It was heavy. The knight smirked, spread his palms wide: and levitated the ball high above his head, to roars of adulation.

“Show off.” Hux murmured, without heat. In his arms, Helios yawned and tugged his sunhat further onto his head “Mummy, it’s too hot.”

“Daddy, I want the big glowy thing!” Sulla added, eyes huge and overbright. Like his Mother, Sulla liked shining things, expensive things: powerful things. 

There was to be dancing. The Supreme Leader, King of Naboo, Master of the Knights of Ren and Grandson of the Force, HATED dancing. 

Armitage had abandoned him to another costume change. Kylo sipped a strong beet-wine, and allowed Darjeeling Ti to do all of the talking. The knights circled the perimeter of the reception and the palace, watchful. Helios and Sulla stood to attention at his side, ordered not to stray. Helios was fidgeting. 

“Are you a King now, Daddy?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Because you held a big glowing ball?”

“Yes.”

“That’s stupid.”

Kylo snorted “I agree, Sulla.”

Beside him, Helios tugged sharply on his skirts “Daddy, Daddy look! Mummy looks so PRETTY!”

The snide Wintourian had managed to persuade Hux into a long, glistening silver garment made of heavy, sheer fabric that fell like speckled metal from waist to ankle. His left arm was encased in a tight, militant sleeve, his right shoulder and arm utterly bare. It looked – sinful.

Armitage stomped over, quite ruining the gentle effect of the swathes of fabric “I look ridiculous. I have glitter in my HAIR.”

Kylo licked is lips. Ran the thick pads of his fingers over the jut of bone and soft skin of his fiancé’s inner arm “I like it.”

Sulla swung on his Mother’s hand “Mummy, I’m bored. Dance with me!”

The Marshall smirked wryly “How could I refuse an offer from such a handsome young gentleman…?”

The boy muttered and flushed to the tips of his ears: in that moment, the Supreme Leader saw a startling resemblance of himself in the child. The Marshall took Sulla’s little hands and they both bowed, before he tugged the boy into a simple half-step that had the crowd cooing and the holo-cameras clicking furiously. 

Helios sensed it first.

“Daddy-!” he squeaked, spinning wildly on the spot, fists flailing at the stab of sheer PERIL that pierced the living Force like a sonic boom. 

A blaster bolt rang out.

“KYLO REN!!”

The crowd scattered, peeling away and screeching, scrambling at the walls. A man stood in the centre of the dance floor, a cacophony of chaos spinning about his aura. His hair was dank and dark, his eyes bloodshot.

His gloved hand was wrapped cruelly around Armitage’ upper right arm, squeezing it bloodless. 

“I am Jamin Chatiment! Son of Naberrus Chatiment! The man you MURDERED!” he spat, digging the tip of his blaster into the soft skin between the Marshall’s jaw and ear. Hux promptly stopped struggling.

Helios wailed and started forward. Kylo grabbed him by the neck and pushed the boy behind him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, NO. Where was Sulla?!

“Going to have to be more specific, boy.” The Marshall hissed to his assailant with his common tact. The crazed adolescent squeezed off a shot that singed Armitage’ chin. 

“Shut UP, you!” Jamin Chatiment howled, fingers trembling, terribly, against the trigger “So called Supreme Leader! It’s time YOU found out how it feels to lose someone you love!”

The knights had gathered: the Supreme Leader swallowed their presence like a gulp of fresh air. Reached out with his powers to CRUSH the boy’s autonomy-

Something repelled him. Poorly. Unskilled. But it pushed BACK. 

The young man chuckled, hysterically “Did you think you were the only one…?” sensitive: he was sensitive, some mad Force user had Hux, had a blaster to Hux’ THROAT “You’re strong: but are you strong enough to stop me in time?”

Kylo balled his fingers into fists: he could see nothing but the bruising skin of Armitage’ upper arm, the grip tightening “Please.”

“Beg me.” The nobleman barked, lips peeling, wrenching the Marshall so hard his bones rattled “Go on. Beg me as my Father begged!”

His erratic thumb caught the trigger.

“NO-!”

A second shot pierced the air.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please do not imitate any of the despotic parenting depicted anywhere in this fic, folks!

The stench of burnt flesh seeped slowly into the air.

The assailant gaped: his chin dropped, sharply, his blaster tumbling to the floor with a resounding clatter. His trembling hand pawed, curiously, at the centre of his chest. Disbelieving. A perfectly round hole was steaming gently there, exposing rent heart and bone. 

He fell sideways like a crumbling statue, velvets spooling out about his body like water. He was gurgling and shuddering, froth bubbling up from his mouth. Behind him, Sulla stood quite still, feet planted firmly apart: still holding his Mother’s micro-blaster aloft with two miniature, white hands. 

The Marshall remembered himself first.

He dropped to his knees before his son neatly, expression calm, and folded his palm over the weapon “That’s enough, baby, give that to me, now.”

Sulla flinched: his small face was bloodless. He blinked as though waking from a nap, struggled to focus on his Mother’s face. Hux gently tugged the blaster from his grasp “That’s it, poppet. Good boy.”

He swept the child into his grasp: the spell broke.

“Out.” Ren snarled at the assembled masses, tone cracking with rage. They scattered like mites. 

The son of the former Prime Minister fell, suddenly, deathly silent. His bulbous eyes dulled.

Helios clung to his Father’s skirts, weeping softly. He was shaking with shock, his little mind utterly blank. The Supreme Leader lifted him and tucked him against his chest, his son a welcome point of focus. He cascaded comfort across him through their bond, and swept over to stand at Armitage’ side with three long strides.

Kylo took his fiancé’s spare hand and demanded “Are you hurt?!”

“Not terribly.” The Marshall replied, wincing as the knight took his bare arm and prodded gently at the welts and bruising, a perfect, purpling handprint, rising there “…the boys…”

Sulla was staring at the corpse, his expression unreadable. He inhaled sharply, his tiny chest rattling “Is he dead?”

Armitage sighed and stroked the child’s ruffled hair soothingly “Yes, my love. He’s dead. I’m afraid you killed him.”

The boy thought for a moment: then said, face crumpling, nose wrinkling “Good.”

The children understood death well enough. Hux had explained it plainly to them, on one of their hunting trips, when Helios had enquired what it meant when the birds and the fish they stalked went still. The knight had taught his sons to respect death: to respect the creatures which gave themselves over to their succour. 

But this was not a hunt. This had been an execution. 

The Marshall was conflicted. He caught the knight’s eye, jerked his head towards the library “Come.”

They settled amongst the sanctuary of a trillion words and voices, the tomes forming a colourful barricade against the outside world. A protocol droid brought cooling herbal teas and various sweetbreads, that went untouched. Nobody was hungry. They settled in a huddle on the largest recliner. And sat. Said nothing, for a long time.

“Mummy, I’m SORRY!” Helios suddenly cried, bursting into violent sobs.

Kylo kissed his temple gently and rocked the boy: startled, the Marshall stroked his cheek “Helios, poppet, whatever for?!”

Helios was near hysterical, his cheeks damp, his nose running. His Mother used his sleeved to gently wipe the mess away, tugged a slip of material from his sleeve, bade the boy blow: noisily “I-it’s my job to tect you an’ Sully!”

“It’s OUR job to protect you two.” Hux returned, frowning, shooting Ren the LOOK. The knight rolled his shoulders “We’re your parents. You two are children.”

Their sensitive son sniffed, hugely, looking between them with enormous eyes “But…but Daddy said…cos I g-got powers…”

Sulla suddenly piped up “But I did it! I killed the man and I got NO powers!”

The Marshall was utterly furious with his fiancé, but set that aside, for now “It’s not a matter of powers, or no powers, my loves. I’m not sensitive, and it’s still my job to protect your Father. No?” he tugged Helios into his lap, curling the children together in a soft mush of limbs “The Force is a weapon. Much like a blaster.”

The knight carefully unbuttoned the boy’s waistcoats, silently tugged their boots from their feet. Undid the stiff collars around their necks. They settled a little, relaxing, liking the attention. Armitage’ hair glistened in the low light. 

“Sulla.” Hux said, seriously “Do you understand what you did?”

“Duh.” The boy grumbled, a little defensive, burrowing against his Mother’s side “I said. I shot him. He’s dead.”

Sulla was excellent at bravado: but his aura was lancing with shock, with confusion. He had not thought it through, had simply lifted the weapon from his Mother’s sleeve, took aim, and fired as he’d been taught to. Really, it’d been sheer luck that he’d hit the assailant’s heart, not skill. The boy felt powerful, the boy felt scared. 

“But do you understand why?” the Marshall continued, carefully.

Both boys looked up at their Mother, caught by the question: Sulla hesitated “…b. Because…” he frowned, as though in class, and unsure of his answer “Because he was gonna kill Mummy?”

“Quite so.” Armitage instructed “You shot him because he was a threat. Our enemy.”

“Yes.” Sulla agreed, very, very quietly. He reached forlornly for his Father, deflating. Ren took him. Spread his palm against his son’s back and rubbed him as though his stomach was upset. 

“Taking a life is always a serious thing.” The Marshall went on, as though making a gentling speech “Whether it’s one, or a hundred thousand. You should always have a good reason. Otherwise, we’re just beasts.”

Helios nodded, licking his lips “Like when you shot at all those planets, Mummy…?”

“Indeed.” Armitage agreed, kissing their son’s hair “And do you know why I did so?”

Sulla hummed, tiredly, but parroted “To bring order to the galaxy!”

“Mm.” the Marshall tugged the tray of sweetmeats closer, and began laying them into piles “It’s all about balance. Let’s say I take the life of one lifeform…” he popped the sweetmeat into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed neatly “In order to PREVENT the deaths of thousands. Does that make sense?”

Sulla nodded sagely “So to save the galaxy, you shot some smelly planets!”

Armitage laughed “Smelly, indeed. My silly love.”

The Marshall retreated behind a nearby dressing screen to change: Sulla, agitated and clingy and eager for something to do, volunteered to help. The boy liked clothes, had even taken to watching and imitating the palace seamstress and the tailor when they visited. He had embroidered a handkerchief for his Father, in wobbly, erratic scarlet stitch: dAddY. Kylo treasured it. 

Helios crawled into his Father’s lap, chin still wobbling “Daddy…I freezed…” he confessed, ashamed.

The Supreme Leader cupped his son’s skull, toying with a stray curl “When the bad man attacked?”

The child nodded. Licked his chapped lips “I wanted – wanted to HELP. But, but what if I hurt Sully? Or Mummy?”

Ah. The knight’s heart squeezed, painfully “You must have faith in yourself.” He said, sombre “I. I also am afraid of my powers, sometimes.”

The boy’s mouth fell open “Really?! But Daddy, you’re so BIG! And strong!”

Ren snorted softly, nosing the child “Even big, strong people are frightened sometimes. What’s important is that you don’t let that fear control you, Helios.”

His son nodded, snuggling closer: the tension in his tiny body finally easing. If his Daddy could be scared, then so could he “I pwomise.”

“I love you.” The knight said, the words wrenched from him quite suddenly “And I trust you to look after your Mother and brother. You should too.”

Helios giggled, his usual sunny disposition returning “Okay, Daddy!!”

Armitage returned, Sulla trailing sleepily behind him, worn out by the excitement of the cycle. He padded over to his Father and fussed at his skirts “Daddy! You never danced with ME!”

“Nor me.” Hux added, smirking: Ren winced. Knowing from the experiences of Ben Solo and his Two Left Feet that he was about to be ruthlessly embarrassed in front of his sons.

“Dance with Mummy first!” Helios declared, fairly, taking his twin’s hands in his “I wanna dance with Sully!”

The boys bowed to one another in a hilarious attempt at formality. Then, began skipping and twirling around the room, Helios giggling, Sulla squawking with disapproval whenever his brother missed a step. Ren resolved that he needed to teach his null son how to have fun before he turned into a carbon copy of his Mother. 

Armitage pressed a palm over the jut of the Supreme Leader’s collarbone: pushed at it, scowling, as the knight settled a hand on his fiancé’s hip “No more games. The galaxy is making a mockery of us.”

His tone was hushed, for small ears. Kylo rolled his shoulders, followed Hux’ lead as they twirled lazily about the library, narrowly avoiding several collisions with their very enthusiastic twins. The boys were currently engaged in a heated argument over who was to lead. 

“Agreed.” Ren replied, shortly. He had become soft, he had become sloppy. He could be vulnerable and tactile, but only with Hux, with the boys.

It was time. 

“Bring Nafi here.” Hux growled, in an eerie echo of Kylo’s own conclusions. He could avoid it no longer. The knights were also distracted by the uncertainty of their sister’s fate: it was making them weak. 

They could not become a divided house. 

The Supreme Leader frowned: surely, after her attempt on their lives, Hux could not suggest they bring her HERE? “The boys-“

“I heard your little discussion with Helios.” Armitage snapped, lowly, leaning in close “Do you not trust yourself to protect us…?”

An agonising spike of pure rage pierced Kylo’s mind, and his fingers jerked hard against the Marshall’s back “Careful, Hux.”

“Oh, don’t give me that rot.” The Marshall returned, dismissively. And waited, still swaying gently. 

“…fine. I will have her brought.” The Supreme Leader conceded. He was conceding too much, these days. 

Little hands tugged at the knight’s skirts: only then did he remember he needed to peel the disgusting thing from him, and burn it “Daddy. M’tired.”

Armitage crouched down and peered into their son’s worn faces, cooing “Would you like a story, my loves?”

Sulla bounced on the balls of his feet, eagerly, his young mind already clean forgetting the horrors of the cycle “YES! One from Daddy! Daddy does the best voices!”

Hux snorted “Charming. In that case, I will use the refresher.”

Helios, worrying his lip and concerned at the insult, threw his arms around his Mother’s waist and placated “Nooooo! Mummy, don’t be sad, I love you! I like your voices!”

Armitage soothed the boy’s concerns, and promptly left. Kylo swiftly changed into his sleep fatigues, kicking the offending skirts aside, and summoned a circle of blankets. He settled the twins across his thighs, wound comfortably together. They always fell, with easy remembrance, into the strange oval-shaped mush they had lain together in the womb. Face to face. 

Hux had a fondness for REAL books, not holos, and had scoured the galaxy for appropriate tomes for their children to read. Discarding many of the more dull Imperial propaganda pamphlets, the knight selected an innocent-looking, well-worn book with a brightly coloured painting of a little Twi’lek boy on the front. 

“The Twi’lek who had no Lekku.” He announced, clearing his throat “Bibek was a Twi’lek who had no Lekku. This made Bib very sad, because he didn’t look at all like all the other Twi’lekians.” Helios blinked sleepily and slipped his thumb into his mouth “The other little Twi’lekian girls and boys would make fun of him, and call him egg-head.”

“Pretty stoopid children.” Sulla grumbled, squirming for better purchase so he could seize a lock of his Father’s hair to drool on “I’d have called him stumpy.”

“Sulla.” Armitage called from the ajar doorway to the adjacent refresher unit “If you’re going to interrupt, you can read it yourself!”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Sulla puffed himself and bravely attempted to do so “…B-I-B – Bib!”

By the time the child had painstakingly made it to the final page, Helios had long since succumbed to sleep, squirming gently, nose wrinkling. Sulla’s chin was also dipping, and he yawned around the final words: the Supreme Leader smirked, and took up the narration once more “And so, Bibek made all the other Twi’lekians from that day forward look like him. And he was very happy. The end.”

He wandered beyond himself, absently carding the twin’s hair with loose fingers. 

“You do do good voices.” Hux murmured, teeth catching against his chin. Kylo exhaled: probed the damp mess of bruising on his fiancé’s bicep “Come. Let me heal that.”

Armitage harrumphed, his hair dark with water and flopping across his forehead: he looked younger, like that. He tumbled beside the knight and tucked himself between Ren’s hip and the back of the recliner “You KNOW I hate healing.”

Kylo growled softly “Armitage.”

The Marshall waved his free hand, dismissively: the Supreme Leader took the offending limb, squeezed it, softly. Allowed himself to fall into the flesh, to explore every tender abrasion, every eruption of burst blood vessels seeping poison into that ivory skin. He took hold of cells, demanded they retreat: knit.

Hux shivered, teeth gritted “H-hot.”

“Shh. Wait.” The knight demanded, distracted. Healing Armitage was much easier now he didn’t loathe the man. He wiped the lingering threat of a headache from the man’s temples, for good measure. 

“Mm.” the Marshall’s soothed head dropped to Ren’s neck, eyelashes dipping “I’m comfortable. Let’s sleep here.”

“Sleep.” The knight agreed, frowning “I need to think.”

“How rare.” Hux murmured, snidely. 

Kylo Ren held his family close. And plotted.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay my pets! I've been terribly unwell this week.

The cycle when Nafi was brought, it poured with rain.

The Supreme Leader took it to be what it was: a sour omen. But Armitage scoffed at him. It rained all the time on Arkanis, he sniffed – a little dampness has never ruined an execution yet. The ivory flash of teeth in the Marshall’s skull this morning seems particularly threatening.

Ren dreads this.

He cannot forgive Nafi: he is her Master, and she has gone against his will. In the most irreparable way. Nothing could or would ever come before his children. They were an extension of him, no mere forgery. She couldn’t simply discard them as faulty, as one would a droid. Especially not given the unreliability of visions, as Kylo has known them.

There’s an old Sith proverb than to run from your destiny is to have it nip ever closer at your heels. 

“Daddy?” A warm, damp hand pats at his chin gently “Daddy, you okay? I wanna fly!”

The knight exhaled, drawing his scattered thoughts down to the focus of the soft mesh of limbs tumbled between his thighs. Helios’ bright, dappled face was upturned, his curls spilling backward, his pale forehead shining. His pudgy fingers roved over the glossy surface of the Starfighter’s controls.

It was an antique: Kylo had repurposed it, replacing the hideous gold with a sleek, black slick of paint. 

“What’s first?” he asked, following Hux’ example in how to instruct the children: questions, questions, questions. Helios made a low humming noise, and wiggled “Uhhhhhhhhhhm…eggin on!” he squealed, jabbing a thumb towards a large scarlet button to the left of the console.

The Supreme Leader dropped his lips briefly to the child’s head “Engine, treasure. Engine on. Yes.”

They shared a wry grin as the machine roared to life beneath them: the knight tucked a worn fighter’s helmet, enormous with bulbous glassy eyes like an insect’s, over his son’s head. He murmured “Don’t tell your Mother.”

Helios bounced on his Father’s knee, eyes overbright “Pwomise!”

Kylo smirked and yanked the ignition lever backwards.

He loved to fly: he could not begrudge even Solo that pleasure. It was the one aspect of the man Ben had understood. That need for raw power reverberating beneath his feet, the blessed oblivion of hyperspace. The urge to go everywhere, do everything. 

Only he would not abandon his sons to do so.

They ran a brief circuit of the city, ducking beneath banners and splicing the rain into clean swathes around them: Helios screeched in pleasure, waving at the blur of startled township-dwellers as they spun past. Nobody could fly planetside without a First Order permit: of which there were scant few. The populace knew who was piloting the black monstrosity that pierced the skies like shots.

The landing levers hissed and steamed gently when they returned: the slap and curdle of rain tremendously loud within the hangar bay. Helios cocked his head and glanced sheepishly at his Father “Uh-oh…”

A very irate Armitage was stood, dressed head to toe in tight training fatigues, arms folded. Sulla stood beside him in identical fatigues, identical scowl, identical posture: they were a wall of fury.

“Love you, Daddy.” Helios whimpered, throwing his arms around the knight lest this be the last time they see one another.

Ren petted his hair soothingly. 

The Supreme Leader leapt from the carapace of the cockpit with neat majesty, landed like a stalking, hunched crow: the Marshall did not move “So! This is what you call a training session?!”

“I was teaching Elio to pilot.” The knight said, shrugging.

Hux’ cheeks were ruddy and his knuckles white with rage “Ren, you KNOW I-“

“Please, Mummy!!!” Helios interrupted, pattering over to throw his arms around his Mother’s thighs “Please, it was my idea! Don’t hate Daddy! Don’t kill him an’ dump him inna swamp!”

…well that was…disturbingly specific…

A little placated, Armitage whirled on him “And what if Sulla wanted to learn, also!”

The Supreme Leader went to his knees before his null son and stroked the sharp line of his fringe “My little Emperor doesn’t like flying.”

Sulla harrumphed, kicking at the tiling with a squeak of his plimsoled slippers, but did not deny it: the child hated speed, hated not being in control of anything. He especially loathed flying, had a terrible fear of heights. Helios had whispered, confidentially, to his Father that Sulla had nightmares of falling, forever.

He did not wish to burden Hux with this. But it was cause for concern. The knight resolved to return to the matter in their next meditation session.

Sulla stomped his foot “You missed my LESSON! I wanted to show you what I learnt!”

The knight’s lips quirked “Well, show me now, treasure.”

The child glanced searchingly at Hux: who nodded, cupping Helios head and bidding him step a little out of the way. The Marshall spread his weight evenly, his spine ramrod straight, and settled into a defensive position: his form exquisite. The knight shuddered. He liked to see Armitage like this: settled and aflame with suppressed violence, his every thought lancing with killing.

Not for their son, of course “I want to fight you later.” Ren announced, suddenly.

Armitage cocked an eyebrow “No cheating?”

Kylo nodded: licked the chapped break of his lips, slowly. Hux trying to kill him. It made heat curl in his belly. 

“Sutra eight, Sulla.” The Marshall instructed, lowering his poise so that the boy could easier reach him “I won’t go easy on you.”

Sulla’s milk teeth flashed “Never do, Mummy! I’ll get you!” before he executed a neat sidestep and lunged at his Mother.

It was basic form: jabs, turns, sidesteps, ducks. More offence than defence, but every move Sulla executed was executed perfectly. His focus was wonderful for Kylo to explore, the sharp track of the child’s thoughts leaping from one move to the next, tongue poking from the side of his ruby mouth in concentration. He was muttering the instructions.

At the climax of the routine, Hux suddenly surprised Sulla: and lashed out an open palm.

Sulla blocked it with crossed arms, barely, stunned, and stumbled back: Ren caught him easily. The Marshall was panting, barely winded: the Marshall was fit, despite appearances. He could run faster even than Kylo could. His eyes filling with pride “Well DONE, my love! Well defended.”

Sulla grinned smugly, looking to his Father for approval: Kylo nodded. Armitage caught Helios round the middle and twirled him, gleeful “My masterful children! A little warrior and a little pilot already!”

The Supreme Leader shivered, and turned towards the gaping, dark yawn of the hangar bay entrance. The rain was driving down harder, harder still: he could feel them. They were coming. In Armitage’ arms, Helios whimpered, gently, as his Mother fussed at his cool cheeks. Sulla glared at the entrance, squinting to see through the sheets of dark water cascading down: his little fingers balled into fists. 

Harun had been the one to keep watch on Nafi in her prison: upon the very planet where her transgression occurred. But it had hardly been necessary. They had had locked her mind, all of the them together, in a force vice: an ancient technique. She could feel, think, keep herself: but not disobey. 

She looked paler and thinner than Kylo had ever seen her.

Nafi had already been a knight of Ren. Snoke had sent them to her, a living relic, an ancient soul, waiting to be revived and honed like a tool. She’d loved Kylo instantly. Had told him she’d seen him, waited for him, for endless stretches of unknown time. Heir of the Force, she’d whispered in his ear: my Prince. 

She lifted her sightless eyes: and blinked, lips curling “Master. I missed you.”

Armitage’ fingers flinched for his vibroblade: the knight halted him. He was pleased to see that Ankh had fitted his sister with neutralising wrist-cuffs, just to be certain: she could not wield her powers here. 

The rain stank like acid. There was an odour fouling the air. 

His knights were hooded and robed: faceless, once again. Cyarr discreetly scuttled over to join them, not sparing Nafi a glance. She stood, regal and strangely forlorn among them: a pale slash of white amongst ebony. 

“Nafi.” Kylo said, in a voice that carried like thunder “We’re going to try you.”

She inclined her head. She’d expected nothing less “I understand.” She inhaled, reaching out: her sightless eyes fell upon the huddled figures of Sulla and Helios, crowded protectively and protected around their Mother’s long legs “I will not recant.”

“Mummy, who is she?” Helios whispered, tugging at Hux’ fingers gently. Sulla simply stared, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. 

Armitage knelt down and wrapped his arms around them both “When I was carrying you in my belly, this woman tried to kill all of us.”

Helios gasped, and whirled about, gaping at Nafi: his primitive powers stretched out unknowingly, searching, brushing against her aura. He could sense no threat, no broiling spirit, only sadness “But she’s so pretty!” he burst out, protesting, and padded slowly closer to her “Why, pretty lady?”

Nafi’s thin nose wrinkled, gently, her expression smooth and placid. Then quite suddenly, she bent over, puckered her lips, and blew a stream of air against Helios’ forehead.

The child squeaked and scrambled back, his curls tumbling aside. As he snatched himself away, Nafi ghosted the whisper of a fingertip against the boy’s temples. 

“OI!!! Don’t touch my BROTHER!” Sulla howled, incensed, and stomped forward. Nafi’s chin snapped, and she turned her head to sense him. 

“Not you.” She murmured, feverish, her extended fingers swaying accusingly from Helios’ head to jab in the direction of Sulla’s heart “You.”

Helios’ little circle of a face drained of blood, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his struggling twin, dragging him back. Sulla spat viciously “What’d I do?!”

At the Supreme Leader’s silent bidding, the knights surged forward to drag Nafi’s bent back away, grappling her outstretched arms to her sides. She was muttering, feverishly, her already pale face clammy with a cold sweat, sightless eyes enormous, bulbous, and utterly fixated upon Sulla “Not what you have done. What you will do.”

The boy with the scar. 

And then, Kylo saw it. Because Nafi saw it. 

The vision was a SCREECH: a howl, incomprehensible, wild, intangible, as they always were. He couldn’t breathe, his ribs crushing his organs, and there was nothing but NOISE and PRESSURE-

Above them groaned an infinite horizon, a cavernous bowl of a ceiling that stretched so far and so high it kissed the stars. In the centre of the incomprehensibly enormous room was a blinding pool of light, bent, hunched figures, and the Force was SCREAMING, SCREAMING, tearing itself apart-

A hooded figure stood, long, ivory, tapered fingers bent over a lever, a lever attached to a monstrous contraption that could only be a weapon. 

A child screamed.

The figure whipped around, and Kylo saw the face of his son. Grown, Sulla was unmistakable: he had his Mother’s nose save for a slight hook at the bridge, Hux’ strong jaw and chin, Ren’s jug-like ears, thick brows. The single mole beneath his left eye and the scar upon his temple marked him like a brand. Not Helios. This was NOT Helios. 

He looked frightened. 

Somewhere behind him, a cracked, deep voice rent the air “Brother, NO!”

Sulla pursed his lips, and wrenched the lever back. 

And then – nothing. Emptiness. Silence. The living Force swept out, crept in. Decimated, it became nothing but a howling vacuum of silence. The end of – everything. 

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!”

In the Supreme Leader’s present, Sulla was crying, his face puce and wild and confused. Ren stared at him. At this small bundle of flesh he and Hux had created, that may one day, somehow, bring an end to – everything.

But he was not Luke Skywalker. He would not cut his blood down for a half-shadow of the future. 

“Sulla, hush.” Armitage cooed, shaking with suppressed rage. Helios also made soothing noises and wrapped his arms even tighter about his twin, protectively. He crowded his Mother backwards, also.

The Marshall swiftly swept the crying babes onto each hip, scowling, and snapped “I’m taking them.”

The knight could only nod “Yes. You cannot attend the trial, in any case.”

Hux opened his mouth to protest, and Ren rumbled darkly “Armitage.”

The Marshall stared at him, eyes burning: leaned up and pressed a slow, cold kiss against the curve of the knight’s cheek “Remember what I told you.” 

He whirled on his heels. Over the jut of his shoulder, Sulla’s wide eyes loomed large and dark and depthless. The eyes of the man with the scar.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A supersized finale!!! Thanks for your patience. Final chapter of part II!! Can you believe it?! FYI, the boys are approx 4 years old when they do finally appear in this. 
> 
> This will be Rey POV!

The eradication of Nafi, former Knight of Ren was broadcast live.

Rey didn’t particularly want to watch it, but felt that she had to. In fact, she felt like she had to watch every scrap of footage she could get her scuffed nails on. Poe couldn’t understand it: but Finn did. Somehow, they both felt responsible. The former scavenger wasn’t arrogant: she knew they were far from all-powerful, but…

It couldn’t help but feel like THEIR mess. 

She’d failed Ben. Failed as General Organa had to reel him back from the precipice he was teetering on. Perhaps he’d already fallen crashing over, in a fanfare of wretched consequences – but. Hadn’t Vader, too, fallen spectacularly? She didn’t want to give up on him. Couldn’t. Or…those children. That little boy with red hair and dimples and implicit trust in the galaxy.

But then there were moments like these. 

The woman stood, tall and calm and with immense dignity, in the central plaza of what Rey knew was the Nabooan capitol. She was dressed in robes black as pitch, presumably her former uniform. The girl from Jakku shuddered. Beside her, Finn pressed a warm, round, stocky palm over her torn knuckles. His eyes flickered darkly and his full lips curdled with regret.

“For treasons and transgressions unforgiveable against your Master, Supreme Leader of the First Order and Master of the Knights of Ren” the Usher was bellowing, in a clipped, cold, carrying tone that belied the terrible punishment about to come crashing down upon the woman’s head “You are sentenced to eradication.”

Finn frowned, glancing at her “…eradication? I’ve never heard of that. Sounds – horrible.”

“It is.”

Finn jumped a little, half-flinching to attention “General, sir!”

The former Princess’ thin lips quirked sadly, and she patted the broad slab of bone at Finn’s back gently “At ease.” 

Her eyes flickered, almost unreadable, to the tiny, stuttering holo-screen they’d erected in a forgotten corner of the base “Eradication is exactly what it sounds like: the erasing of the self. Not the body. Only the mind.”

Rey shuddered deeply, a chill that run from crown to toe. She’d experienced some of that, she thought. With Snoke. The feeling of clammy fingers latching onto every tiny scrap of herself and tearing her apart in clumpy strings. Like tearing a loaf of Jakkuan rye dough asunder. She’d felt crushed and scattered, all at once. 

“But WHY!” she exclaimed, before her mouth could clamp down on a question she didn’t want the answer to.

The General lowered herself slowly to sit beside them on a crate, her delicate, gnarled fingers settling on a smooth, pearlescent stick she used to support herself “Convenience.” She exhaled, slowly, as if she would’ve preferred cruelty “A death in a hive mind is a terrible thing. You lose chunks of yourselves to it. At least, that’s what Luke told me.”

The former scavenger’s heart dropped like a sapphire-plum stone “…so…so they murder her in all but name, and leave nothing but a shell behind?!”

The General nodded. Rolled a single shoulder with a resigned wince “Our dear Grand Marshall’s idea, I’d imagine. That fool boy of mine was never one for planning ahead.”

“He’d have just cut her head off.” Rey replied, bitterly, and wished she could take it back when the General’s eyes dipped to the floor. Not denying this. 

The remaining four Knights, and their Master, surrounded the woman, and began without word nor ceremony. The General cut the holo-feed with a wave her hand, when Nafi’s agonised howls became too much to bear. 

Finn licked his lips, hands curled into fists, and growled “We have work to do.”

Unfortunately, the revitalised First Order shared that sentiment.

The barrage of propaganda came thick and fast, alongside an aggressive conquest campaign that largely ignored the presence of the Resistance altogether. The General dispatched as many troops and resources as she could, mostly to bolster besieged planets within their reach. To little avail. The more the Order advanced, the fatter and richer it became. It’s enormous ships lumbered about the galaxy like an engorged curse. 

And then there was the small matter of survival.

Poe had begun to playfully refer to their ritual as the rat-maze. Wherever they ran, it felt like they came upon against a wall, or an Order cruiser parked behind the nearest asteroid field. The Resistance stripped back their tech to avoid detection, the Order activated spies to counter it. They discovered loopholes to sneak beneath the Order radar, the Order would seal it, and it went on and on and on.

The General, over a particularly disgusting meal of Grilgoggian rhine-stew, wryly pointed out to her star pilot that wars were, in actuality, rather dull. 

Everywhere they went, the Grand Marshall’s shining teeth and pitiless eyes stared back at them: join us, join us, join us or be destroyed. That was the party line. It was working. The Order offered riches and protection, technologies, and the fantasy of domination. 

“Liberty or death,” Leia commented, when another ally afforded them the courtesy of a pre-warning before turfing them off-planet “Is an easy choice.”

The General remained stoic as usual. Rey only saw the fissures in her façade the once. 

The so-called Imperial Family had released a series of promo-holos, that flickered around and around on an endless repeat. Rarely did the twins appear. But very briefly, they were seen ensconced in their parents arms, eyes hidden by overlarge jade-glasses, watching an eclipse on a state visit to Pyrrhus V. The tousled boy was clapping and laughing, his brother’s jaw slack with awe. They’d grown an awful lot since even Rey had last seen them, their chubby limbs lengthening and their little faces turning from round to roundish, the peek of a pointed chin emerging.

Rey caught the General watching it, on repeat, one dark night when she brought their leader scouting reports. She said nothing. 

But the items on the former Princess’ dresser were all broken when the next cycle dawned. 

Several times over they had to scatter and coalesce. Hux described them as a disease, a pestilence: Finn commented scathingly that HE was the sick one.

“I would say things are looking desperate,” Poe said, many, many cycles after they’d run out of the pink wafer rations “But we started at desperate. Things are looking bleaker than a moor on Arkanis. During rainy reason. In a bog. UNDER a bog.”

The General shocked the gathered assembly by responding “I agree, Captain.”

Silence. Leia’s walking stick clicked as she walked, her back more bent than before: as though she were being slowly crushed by the weight of the galaxy upon her “Let us face facts: we’re losing this war. In fact, it’s not much of a war. Even guerrilla tactics are failing us, now.”

Finn shot to his feet “General, you can’t mean-“

“Surrender? No.” their leader cut the former Stormtrooper off, gaze steely “I mean it is time we took a different approach.”

Captain Bail Antilles surged to his feet, cheeks scarlet “We must strike at the very heart of the Order, General! Rip out it’s heart, as we did the Deathstars!”

“You can’t mean to kill them.” Rey said, quietly. She blinked as all eyes turned upon her. 

Leia stared at her for what felt like an eternity. She had considered this. That preyed upon her mind more than the deed itself ever could. But she shook her head “That’s not our way. We’d be no better than they are.”

“You can’t be serious, General!” Antilles protested, shaking “Capturing them, assuming we even CAN, would accomplish nothing! What’re we going to do, lock them up?! Put them on trial!” his voice cracked, a little “And how would we even keep a Force user anyway?! Or three!”

Two, Rey thought. But said nothing. 

The General pursed her lips “Sit down, Captain.”

Antilles did so. Slowly.

Leia continued soberly “The flagship the Redoubt will be in orbit around the Elysium Belt three cycles from now.” 

She did not have to add how many Resistance members had given their lives to learn that miniscule scrap of highly classified intel. 

“The Supreme Leader and the Marshall will both be on board, as they intend to survey the mines there in person.” Her nails tip-tapped against the visi-screen in the centre of the room, summoning a translucent blueprint of the enormous ship “Disruption from the cobaltite minerals in the rock will confuse the cruiser’s scanning and shield capabilities. And…to a small extent, Force abilities.” Leia cast a significant look Rey’s way “For a little while.”

The plan was simple. As it always was, just simple and insane enough to work.

“Sneak on board. Sneak past thousands of highly trained troops and snooping turncoat droids. Nab the gangly ginger despot and his besotted death-mop. Victory!” Poe summarised, neatly, punching the air. 

Rey frowned: kept her gaze transfixed upon the General as the crowd dispersed, muttering amongst themselves. They weren’t elated. Their nerves buzzed and rebounded off her senses like a darting clutter of flies. 

“General.” She murmured, catching Leia’s wrist as the woman passed “If they’re both on board…”

Those children would be too.

“I know.” Leia replied, her gaze heavy as lead and yet somehow utterly vacant. Rey swallowed, toyed with the loose threads of her wrappings, watching their leader retreat. 

She didn’t know what was the right thing to do, anymore. 

Poe was to pilot, of course. Finn and Rey elected to try for the Supreme Leader, armed with all manner of stun grenades. The General had offered herself as bait, but the former scavenger flatly refused THAT strategy.

“You’ve done enough.” She said, firmly. Suffered enough. Confronting Ben, confronting those children – it would surely be the end of the General. 

Leia protested: but Poe, surprisingly, chipped in “Without you, General, we have no hope.”

Their leader sighed “And without you three, we have no future.”

“Then let us BE the future.” Finn added, with his gentle wisdom. And so the General was defeated. 

The flight to the Redoubt was ominously quiet. Finn sat in the co-pilots chair, settling his jitters by pushing his temple against Poe’s (for once) armoured shoulder. The captain elbowed him, gently. Rey settled her fingers on the crowns of their chairs, staring unblinkingly out at the endless blanket of stars.

She was going to see Ben again. She could feel it. She hoped to all the known deities he didn’t, too. The trouble with the cobaltite, humming ominously far below them, was that it affected her, also. Not a drain on her powers so much as – interference. Like a blanket of static.

“Be safe.” Finn said, significantly, once they’d successfully landed in the lowest-security cargo docking bay, slipping past the security sensors unnoticed. 

“Don’t die.” Poe added helpfully, grinning, swooping in for a brief kiss. And then, with a click of heels and weapons, they had gone. 

Their target was the Marshall, at the other end of the ship. 

The former scavenger rolled her shoulders in the uncomfortable, ill-fitting plastique of her Stormtrooper disguise. She was far too short for it! She could barely see through the visor. But it would have to do. She held her standard issue blaster awkwardly in her hands, and tried to walk with purpose. The entire ship was smooth and utterly black, like glass, floors and walls. It was eerie.

She encountered nobody on her long walk. She felt as though she were being dragged down the gullet of some great beast, hurtling slowly and purposefully towards the stomach. 

“Hello!”

Rey squeaked, and rounded on her assailant, fingers flitting for her belt-

A small boy was staring blithely up at her, titian hair curling around his protuberant ears, smiling, bold but shy. He had a miniature line of very small teeth and was wearing impossibly soft, slack grey leggings and what looked like an adult-sized Order pullover.

“Pretty blue lady! Is that you?” the boy enquired brightly, the tendrils of his stunted powers licking at Rey’s mind curiously. 

The scavenger glanced about, sensing no trap, but – wary. She tugged the helmet from her head, winced as her sweaty hair clung to the insides “Helios! Isn’t it?”

The boy beamed and giggled “You’re not blue anymore!”

The scavenger, again, glanced around. She crouched low so she could stare the boy in the face. It was eerie. Those EYES… “What are you doing out here all alone, Helios?” she asked, carefully “Where’s your brother…? Your Mother…?”

Helios laced and unlaced his fingers, head bowed, muttering “Can’t tell. Sully said NOT to.”

Aha. This was far from good. Rey sighed “You can tell me, I promise. I won’t let Sulla know, our secret.”

Lip quivering, the child burst out “We were hiding! But we got BORED, so we snuck out past the guards, but then, these strange men in RED came, and-“

He trailed off, eyes shining “I lost Sully.”

Rey hesitated, then settled her hands gently on his small shoulders “I’m sure your brother is just fine. He’s very clever!”

Her heart squeezed. She didn’t want to do this…but “Helios, can you take me to your Daddy?”

The boy eyed her, enormous brown eyes sizing her up. He wasn’t as sweet and foolish as he seemed, the scavenger thought. Perhaps his primitive powers sensed the lick of deceit crawling in her gut “Why?”

Rey forced her voice to remain calm and casual “So I can return you to him, of course. He must be very worried.”

The boy folded his arms and made a disapproving noise, seemingly thinking deeply. Eventually, he nodded, hair flopping “We-eeeell. Okay. You’re no match for Daddy, anyway.”

He took her left hand and smiled at her expectantly. Rey blinked. 

“This way!” Helios said, squeezing her palm gently with sticky hands. He dragged her off down the left corridor of a fork with surprising strength, his soft-soled shoes making barely any noise on the mirrorlike surface of the floor. 

The scavenger told herself, over and over again, assume NOTHING. Stay alert. Where had Finn and Poe got to, she wondered? If Helios was loose, the other must be running around, also…

This was an utter mess. Some guards Ben had picked for his children, that could be outwitted by a pair of – three? Four rotation old’s???

“Do you know my Grandma?”

Rey startled, and cursed herself for becoming distracted “….oh. You mean, the Admiral?” she’d forgotten her name. Severe woman, eyes like a scavenger bird. 

Helios stopped short. Rey squeezed his miniature fingers reassuringly as she saw his downcast expression “What is it, Helios?”

The boy bit his lip “I-I mean my OTHER Grandma.” His cheeks turned slowly pink “The pretty old lady with the sad brown eyes.”

Oh, Rey thought, heart turning to stone. Oh. 

“I do.” She said, softly. Helios tugged her and they resumed their long, slow walk. The scavenger could feel the weight of Ben’s presence drawing nearer, creeping at corners. She felt strangely dazed. The little boy’s aura flitted against her own like a flock of tiny birds. 

“Daddy says she lives far, far away.” Helios added, sadly, reaching up on tiptoes and pressing his tiny, starlike hand to a button beside a pair of blast doors. The scavenger thought of Leia as she’d last seen her, bent over that one blasted holo, watching her grandchildren smile and stare straight through her. Shivering against the Dagobah chill. 

Rey only realised what she had done once she saw Ben stood, enormous and still and smiling, on the other side. Flanked by five silent, scarlet sentinels. 

“Dagobah, mm?” he said, quietly, his fuller face and shining hair alight with greed. 

“Daddy!” Helios squealed, oblivious, snatching away from Rey before she could blink. Ben smiled a smile that Rey had only ever caught snatches of in Leia’s memory, and lifted his son into his arms. 

Her fingers curled slowly into fists. Ben USED him. Used his own SON-!

“No, actually.” Ben said, smoothly, tone gentle for the child curling against his chest with practised ease “But it did save me the bother of an interrogation.”

There came the rumble of a distant, resonating EXPLOSION. The Supreme Leader’s lips quirked, and he beckoned her over to the central dais of the room “It seems Mummy found Rey’s little friends, my love. Or did they find him…?”

Rey shivered. Couldn’t help but tumble forward as Ben flicked his long fingers against a few commands on the holo-recorder, sliding the chrono-reader back, back, back.

“-to kriff with the General’s orders! This will only end when THEY do!”

Antilles. Oh, dear deities, they sent ANTILLES as part of Poe and Finn’s team?! Or did he sneak amongst the ranks?! In any case, the two captain’s were engaged in a heated argument on the translucent image.

“Calm the psassk down, Bail, or you’ll blow our only chance!” Poe hissed, as Finn glanced warily up and down the empty corridor. 

“I’m about to blow SOMETHING!” Antilles spat back, incensed. 

“Kinky.” Poe couldn’t help but counter, grinning. Finn groaned.

Antilles snarled, and darted off down a separate corridor. In the present, Ben tutted, flicking another few command keys “Dull, dull. Infiltration – ah.”

Finn and Poe, alone now, were stood stock still in a plush ante-chamber, surrounded by a terribly domestic scene of comfortable recliners and a holo-chess set. Stood feet planted firmly apart, arms folded, was a highly irate little boy “Who the kriff are you?! I demand you tell me how you got in here!”

“Sully!” Helios said, brightly. Then withered at the glare his Father sent him “Oh, Sully. Has he been silly again?”

“…we…uhhhhm…” Finn said, intelligently.

“We’re the maintenance crew! Come to fix the – refresher unit!” Poe added, smiling winningly.

The child scowled coldly, lip curling “The refresher isn’t broken. And you’re not dressed in uniforms.” He peered at them, closely. His dark eyes widened, and he hopped neatly back “You’re Rebel SCUM!”

“Nonono, shhh, keep your voice down, kid!” Poe soothed, breaking out in a cold sweat visible even on the holo-recording. 

“We are. But we’re the GOOD Rebels.” Finn tried, taking the insane tactic of truth “Please, listen. One of our – former, associates, he’s aboard too, and he wants to kill your Mother.”

Sulla eyed them warily “Lots of people want to kill Mummy. So what?”

Finn groaned “So, he has a large case of extremely deadly grenades that may well succeed?”

The little boy chewed on his lip “…blow Mummy up?”

“Into tiny little bits!” Poe added, enthusiastically. Finn kicked him sharply when the little boy’s face scrunched up in horror “POE!”

“Why would you help!?” Sulla demanded, looking like he was ready to bolt. Finn crouched down and looked the boy in the eye “Because we want to capture him alive, kid. Alive and captured, dead and in pieces. Come on.”

Sulla sniffed “Cappytured, then.” He concluded, snatching Finn’s wrist and snarling “Hurry UP!”

The Supreme Leader tapped at the controls. In his arms, Helios began to whimper. Ben shushed him. Rey startled when she felt a presence at her back: the Praetorian guards had closed in, forming a tighter and tighter circle around her. She licked her lips. 

The holo resumed in an enormous bedroom: for some reason, the scavenger focused on the fact the bed was unmade. Somehow, it struck her as – terribly ordinary. 

“-kriff’s sake, Antilles, we’re not MURDERERS!” Finn was saying, his voice tripping as though it had cut across a very thin wire. Bail was stood, still but tremulous, a tiny, glinting device held tightly in his right hand. 

Rey caught sight of the crouched, dark figure on the floor, a snatch of scarlet hair, before - “Bail, NO!”

The doors to the bedroom slid suddenly shut. Rey opened her mouth, catching a small, round pale face before it abruptly disappeared. 

The holo screen exploded in a blossom of cool purple and blues, denoting fire. Helios HOWLED as the feed cut “MUMMY!!!”

The Supreme Leader hushed him, and said, brusquely “Thanks, Harun. You can release the illusion now.”

The scavenger’s heart fell through the floor and into the vast fabric of space time itself. She felt cold. 

Around her, the five figures did not contort. The red plates of their armour simply – fell away, scattered into nothing like spun, suspended glass. Beneath, there were five figures clad in black. Tall, short, inbetween. Five. How had she MISSED that?! But…there were only four knights left…

“Mummy!!! Sully!!!” Helios squealed, wriggling from his Father’s grasp and bounding past Rey in a whirl of soft grey fabric, and throwing himself into the arms of the figure stood directly behind her. 

Rey whirled about. Armitage Hux stood, immensely tall and slender, lips quirked in tender malice. He set both the children down, the double squash of them a little too large for his arms now. The scavenger could only stare.

Over the Marshall’s shoulder, the crumpled figures of Finn and Poe lay, breathing shallow and frantic, unconscious. Their armour was speckled with guts. Rey shuddered. 

So the Marshall had never been in his quarters. They’d known. How had they KNOWN?!

“Surrender, girl.”

Rey whirled on the man formerly known as Ben Solo, chest heaving frantically “You know I can’t.”

He considered her for a long moment, almost pitying “You will.”

The Marshall bade the children go to their Father: and straightened up, gaze boring into hers. She had never been this close to him before. The man’s eyes were not so hard and depthless, at this proximity: they looked more – translucent. As though he was focused utterly on the now, and yet always, always looking forward. 

“You could have used the children against us.” He said, quietly and carefully. 

“Is that a question?” she spat, disgusted. The knights were drawing nearer. 

Incredibly, Armitage Hux smiled at her “No.” he shook his head, cheeks dimpling “It’s why you’ll always lose, you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just to be clear, Sulla and Helios did indeed run off and get themselves into trouble. They weren't part of the plan. The scamps!
> 
> I can't thank the noble folks enough who left kudos, comments and encouragement for me throughout the series so far!!! Thank you so much, my loves!
> 
> Next instalment will be called 'Sanctity,' where we return to Hux POV, and also get the twins POV for the first time ever! It'll be set quite a few years after the end of Patriliny, the boys will be 9 years old. 
> 
> I'd also like to direct your attention to the AMAZING fics/fanart that my wonderful readers have submitted for Progeny verse!!!
> 
> Evenstar did a beautiful illustration of Hux' coronation evening gown! View it on Tumblr: bit.ly/2J1i5IW  
> Golden_Eyes did a lovely little snippet fic of what the future might hold! Read it here: bit.ly/2HsO73q  
> And Darth_Cannizard wrote a far flung fic of the FAR future! Read it here: bit.ly/2J0NEm2


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